"I made a choice. My choice. About my life and my safety and how I contribute to this world we're building." My own anger was rising now. "You don't get to control everything I do, Elio. I'm not some fragile thing that needs constant protection."
"You don't understand how dangerous—"
"Don't." I cut him off. Voice sharp. "Don't tell me I don't understand danger. I've lived in this world my entire life. I know exactly how dangerous it is. The difference is I'm choosing to fight instead of hide."
"Living in it and surviving it are different things—"
"And I've survived! I survived life with my father. Survived Dante's assault. Survived running across three states. Survived destroying my family's empire. I'm still here. Still fighting. Because I'm not weak, Elio. I'm not fragile. I'm dangerous. You told me that yourself."
"Being dangerous doesn't make you invincible!"
"And being protective doesn't make you right!" I was shouting too now. "You've been working yourself to death for almost two weeks. Barely sleeping. Barely eating. Obsessing overevery possible threat while refusing to accept help from anyone. That's not protection, Elio. That's control. And I won't let you control me the same way my father did."
He recoiled like I'd slapped him. "I am nothing like your father."
"Then stop treating me like I can't make my own decisions. Stop acting like my safety is more important than my agency. Stop trying to protect me from everything including myself."
"I'm trying to keep you alive!"
"I don't want to just be alive, Elio! I want to live. I want to fight. I want to matter beyond being someone you have to keep safe." My voice cracked. "I wrote those articles because I needed to contribute. Because sitting on the sidelines watching you fight alone was killing me. Because I love you and I couldn't stand watching you destroy yourself."
The words hung in the air between us.
I'd said it. Finally said it. In the middle of a fight. In the worst possible way.
Elio stared at me. Something shifted in his expression. Softened. Then hardened again.
"If you loved me, you wouldn't have taken risks that could get you killed."
The words cut deeper than any knife.
"If you loved me," I said quietly, "you'd trust me to know my own limits. Trust my judgment. Trust that I can fight my own battles."
"Julian—"
"No. You don't get to do this. Don't get to say you care about me and then treat me like I'm incapable. Either trust me or don't. But don't pretend this is about love when it's really about control."
I turned and walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Elio demanded.
"Somewhere you're not. I need space. We both do."
"Julian, wait—"
I didn't wait. Just left his office. Left Inferno. Called a car and went back to his apartment.
Our apartment? I didn't even know anymore.
I packed a bag. Grabbed my laptop and essentials. Left before Elio could follow me.
Texted him from the car:I'm staying at the room at Inferno for a few days. We both need time to cool down. Don't follow me.
His response came immediately:We need to talk about this.
I didn't reply. Just turned off my phone and tried not to feel like my heart was breaking.
I spent the first night in my old room at Inferno. It felt like going backward. Like undoing progress.
