Just the silence.Just the hurt staring back at me through eyes that used to look at me as if I was hers.
My grip on her hair loosens.Not all the way, just enough for her to breathe again.Enough for my fingers to stop trembling from how close I’d come to pushing her past the edge.
She’s quiet now.Eyes glassy, lips parted, that sharp tongue of hers swallowed by the kind of heartbreak that steals your breath and never gives it back.
And fuck, I hate it. Hate myself for putting it there.
But before I can move, before I can say anything, the door behind me creaks open.
Then the sound of boots on concrete.
I release my grip on her hair and turn.
Rocco.
One of my father’s men.Leather gloves.Black jacket.Dead eyes.He’s the kind of man who doesn’t ask questions, just follows orders.The cleanup crew.The final nail.
His gaze skims past me to her.It’s cold, calculated.Like he’s already sizing up how many pieces she’ll break into when it’s his turn to do what I couldn’t.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”I snap, my voice dropping into something just a breath from violence.
His presence, it’s a fucking threat.A loaded gun pointed at both of us, disguised in leather and silence.
Rocco’s eyes shift to mine, slow and empty.“Boss said to check if she’s still breathing,” He says, voice flat.“Said if you weren’t making progress, maybe someone else should.”
His gaze cuts to her one final time, and fuck, that’s all it takes.Something detonates inside me, brutal and blinding, like a bomb going off behind my ribs.A rupture I can’t contain, it’s wide enough to burn through every ounce of control I thought I had.
Then Rocco speaks.
“You might want to call your father,” he says.“I’ve been given clearance.I’m the one extracting the information now.”
The words hit harder than any bullet I’ve ever taken.
I’ve been given clearance.
He’s not asking.He’s informing me.Like I’m already obsolete.As if I’m just a ghost in this room while he puts his hands on her.
He moves around me.I’m not a threat anymore.I’ve already been dismissed, discarded without a second thought, like I never fucking mattered.
My gaze follows him, every muscle coiled tight, every breath thick with the taste of blood I haven’t spilled yet.
“Touch her,” I say, voice dropping into something darker.“And I’ll bury you so fucking deep even my father won’t find you.”
He pauses.
It’s just for a second, but enough for me to see the flicker in his eyes.
I know this man.I’ve seen what he’s capable of.
The cruelty.The way he breaks people.Beats them to a pulp until they can’t see through their own blood, can’t talk through the teeth he’s forced them to swallow.
He’s stepping into a firestorm.And if he fucking touches her… if he even thinks about laying a hand on her… I’ll burn him alive.I’ll make sure his blood stains these walls, and I won’t stop until the screams I hear are his.
Rocco doesn’t flinch.His dead, soulless eyes scan me.
“You think I’m here to listen to your threats, Matteo?”he sneers, voice flat, dripping with that sickening condescension.“Call your father.Let him know you couldn’t get the job done.”
My blood fucking boils.
