But I had to try.
Because the alternative—losing Stefan to the FBI, to federal charges, to testimony that would destroy us both—was unthinkable.
Stefan stirred beside me. "You're thinking too loud."
"Sorry."
"What's wrong?"
"Just worried. About the trial. About keeping you safe. About—" I stopped. "About becoming the thing you escaped from."
Stefan turned to face me. His hand cupped my jaw. "You're not my father, Matteo. You're controlling and possessive and yes, you put me back in a cage. But you listened when I called you out. You're trying to find balance even if you're not there yet."
"That's a low bar."
"It's higher than Giuseppe ever set." He kissed me softly. "I'm not saying this is perfect. I'm not saying I love the restrictions or the guards or feeling trapped. But I understand why. And I'm choosing to stay anyway."
"For now."
"For now," he agreed. "Ask me again in three months. After the trial. After the threat's passed. We'll see if I still want to stay when the cage isn't justified by FBI surveillance."
It was fair. More than fair.
"And if you don't? If three months of restrictions makes you realize you're better off somewhere else?"
"Then we'll deal with it." Stefan's eyes held mine. "But Matteo? I don't think that's going to happen. I think we're going to get through the trial. Get through the restrictions. And come out the other side still together."
"You sound very certain."
"I am certain." He smiled slightly. "I didn't cut ties with my entire family just to give up on you because things got hard. I'm in this. For better or worse. Even when worse includes guards and cages and you being overprotective."
I pulled him close. Held him like letting go would destroy me.
"I love you," I said. "Even though I'm bad at showing it in healthy ways."
"I love you too. Even though I'm probably insane for loving someone who kidnapped me and keeps locking me in cages."
"We're both insane."
"Completely." He pressed his face against my chest. "But I'm not ready to lose you yet. So let's get through these three months. Get through the trial. And then we can work on being less fucked up about each other."
"Deal."
We fell asleep tangled together. Both scared. Both uncertain. Both facing a future that could tear us apart.
CHAPTER 13: STEFAN
SANDRO OFFERED MEmy own room three days after the guards appeared.
He called me into his office—not Matteo, just me—and made the offer with that calculating expression he wore like armor.
"You've been staying in Matteo's apartment," he said. It wasn't a question. "But you should have your own space. Your own room. Somewhere that's yours."
I understood what he wasn't saying. That living in Matteo's apartment made me look like property. Like a kept thing instead of a person making choices. That having my own room would give the appearance of independence even if everyone knew I'd still sleep in Matteo's bed most nights.
"Thank you," I said. "But I'm fine where I am."
Sandro raised an eyebrow. "You're turning down privacy? Your own space?"
