“The Spanish, maybe.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“You still won’t admit what they did to you when they took you.”
His voice hardened now.
Accusatory.
“You protect them even now.”
The words hit like a second blow.
Harder. Colder.
“I didn’t—” I started, but the words tangled in my throat.
Before I could finish—
Vincenzo stepped forward.
His hand reached out—
And for a moment—
I thought he was coming for me.
But instead—
His fingers closed around the ring in my hand.
He took it from me like it might shatter under too much pressure.
His thumb brushed over the sapphire once.
Then again.
Gentle. Unconscious.
A flicker of something softer crossed his face—but it was gone just as quickly.
Buried beneath something far more dangerous.
“Do you work for the Spanish now, Elena?”
The question came quietly.
Like he was afraid of the answer.
My breath caught.
The words felt unreal.
“You think I—”
I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself.
“I didn’t steal anything from you, Vincenzo.”
