I lifted my eyes.
Just slightly.
Not enough to challenge. But enough to be seen.
“You left me—”
“I left to make sure Violet didn’t die in a ditch because her driver clipped a guardrail.”
Vincenzo’s voice cut in—low, but edged with something sharp enough to slice clean through my defiance.
Because her driver clipped a guardrail?
That’s what nearly got her killed?
The absurdity of it cut through the tension like a knife.
He straightened to his full height, posture rigid, the anger still there but buried deeper now.
His gaze shifted.
First to Renzo. Still kneeling.
Then back to me.
“You’ve only seen the restrained version of me. The one who kisses you at the altar instead of snapping your neck. The one who walks away instead of finishing what he started in your bedroom.”
“Ask Ciro. Ask Renzo.”
“The other side of me—the one you haven’t met—has no humanity left. No mercy. No second thoughts. You don’t want to see it.”
A pause.
“Get up.”
The command was simple.
But my body refused to cooperate.
I tried.
The moment I shifted my weight, my knee buckled again, sending a sharp, searing pain straight up my leg.
My breath hitched as my body collapsed slightly to the side, the floor rushing closer before I caught myself with trembling arms.
White-hot pain bloomed across my leg.
I clenched my jaw, fighting it.
“I’m too weak...”
“Do not speak unless spoken to.” Ciro stepped forward immediately, baton raised, ready to strike again.
Before it could land, Vincenzo’s voice cut through the air, his eyes locked on Ciro.
“Enough.”
Ciro froze, every muscle tensing, then relaxed only at Vincenzo’s command.
