“Why?” I asked.
The single word cut through his momentum.
His head snapped slightly, his eyes locking onto mine in incredulity.
“Are you seriously asking me why?” His voice rose, not loud, but edged with fury now.
“He touched you.” A step toward me. “He got you pregnant.”
Another step. “He dared to put his hands on what is mine—”
“That’s not what happened.”
He didn’t hear me.
“I won’t stop at killing him,” he went on, the words coming faster now, darker. “I’ll wipe out his entire bloodline. His brothers. Their wives. Their grand—”
“Vincenzo.”
My voice cut through his like a blade.
Sharp enough to stop him.
I stepped closer.
Close enough now that I could smell him clearly.
“I know we haven’t talked about what happened during the four weeks I spent in captivity,” I said, keeping my voice steady even as my pulse raced. “Not properly. Not really.”
His breathing was still uneven—controlled, but barely.
“But you need to listen to me now.”
His eyes stayed locked on mine.
Waiting.
Tense.
Ready to explode again if I said the wrong thing.
“The only pain I endured,” I continued, “was being confined to that room.”
A flicker of confusion broke through the anger.
Small—but there.
“No one violated me,” I said clearly. “No one touched me.”
His expression shifted again—rage faltering, something uncertain pushing through.
“I wasn’t beaten,” I added. “Not once. They didn’t get the chance.”
My hands trembled slightly, but I held his gaze.
Held it.
Didn’t let him look away.
