Vincenzo stepped forward instead.
He bent slightly, and before I could protest, he hooked an arm under mine and lifted me himself.
The movement surprised me.
Not because of the strength—but because of the control.
He didn’t yank. Didn’t drag.
He adjusted my weight carefully, steadying me just enough to keep me upright.
Still—his grip burned.
Every touch seemed to press into the bruises already forming beneath my skin, igniting fresh waves of pain that forced me to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek.
“You don’t go anywhere without my explicit permission. Not a meeting. Not a walk. Not a single breath of fresh air unless I know exactly where you are.”
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper meant for me alone.
“Next time you pull something like this... I won’t let Ciro stop at one strike. I’ll chain you to this villa myself.”
The words sank deep, leaving no room for doubt.
His eyes flicked to Ciro.
“I know how we discipline soldiers who step out of line. But this... this is my wife.”
“I know the rules. But you will not treat her like one of your recruits. Not now. Not ever. Do not—ever—strike her again.”
Ciro simply nodded.
Without a word, he lowered his weapon and stepped back three measured paces, creating distance between us.
I froze, caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion.
Vincenzo was giving orders to his second in command—never to touch me again, never to treat me like one of his recruits.
I didn’t know what to feel. Relief? Confusion? Awe? All of it at once.
Renzo remained on his knees where he was, head bowed, shoulders still.
He hadn’t spoken since Vincenzo dragged me in. Not once.
And now I understood why.
He wasn’t silent out of fear alone.
He knew the rules—words were not to be spoken unless expressly permitted.
Vincenzo turned back to me, his gaze unflinching, carrying the weight of authority and intent.
“Lock Renzo in the dark cell for seven days,” he said without looking away from me.
“Seven days?” Ciro confirmed.
“Seven days. No light. No distinction between day and night.”
A pause.
