“That’s what I was trained to do.”
The shorter one shifted slightly.
Enzo’s eyes narrowed.
“Walk away,” I continued, my tone dropping just enough to carry weight, “don’t come near her again. Don’t even look at her.”
For a moment—it looked like he might actually consider it.
He glanced over his shoulder again.
Still no one.
No witnesses. No interference.
Then back to me.
Something darker settled in his expression.
Challenge.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.
“I shouldn’t come near her? Not even look at her?”
His laughter was low, almost deranged, unable to hide the thrill he drew from the moment.
“How about you step fully into the corner, where the cameras can’t see what’s about to happen?”
His voice dropped, dangerous.
“You said you could break my arms... kill me—so prove it. I want to see what the discarded, unclaimed wife is really capable of.”
Behind me, the girl’s breathing hitched again.
I didn’t look back.
I reached behind me anyway.
Found her hand.
Small. Cold. Shaking.
I squeezed it once.
Reassuring.
“We’re leaving,” I said quietly.
Then I turned.
Guiding her with me.
One step.
That was all it took.
Because Enzo moved fast.
