I walk to the center of the mats and stop.
My hands are shaking. I notice it distantly, the way you notice weather through a window. A fine tremor that starts in my fingers and radiates up through my arms. I curl them into fists, but it doesn't help.
I am not your property. I am not yours to command.
Her voice. But underneath it, another voice. Older. Colder.
You belong to me now, Massimo. Every choice you make, I allow.
The memory slices through me without warning. Not a gradual recollection but a violent intrusion, Luciano's face swimming up from the depths where I've buried it, his cold smile, his elegant hands that could break bones without effort.
I start pacing. Can't stop.
The training room is large, but it feels too small. I walk the perimeter like a caged animal, my footsteps silent on the mats, my mind churning through fragments I've spent centuries trying to forget.
A stone room. Chains on my wrists. Luciano circling me slowly, explaining in that patient, reasonable voice why I needed to submit.
"I'm not punishing you, Massimo. I'm teaching you. You'll thank me eventually. They all do."
I pace faster.
My foot catches the edge of a mat, and I stumble. Catch myself against the wall. Stay there, palm flat against the cool surface, breathing hard despite not needing air.
How long have I been in here? Minutes? Hours? The compound is silent around me, the deep silence of late night.
"You're learning," Luciano said, after I stopped fighting. After I'd been broken so thoroughly I couldn't remember what defiance felt like. "This is what caring gets you. Weapons to be used against you. Weaknesses to be exploited. Love is a leash, Massimo. The sooner you accept that, the less you'll suffer."
Massimo.A name I haven’t heard in centuries since I’d chosen a more modern version of my name.
I push off from the wall and resume pacing. The shaking has spread from my hands to my whole body now, a fine vibration, like I'm coming apart at the seams.
I trusted her with that story. Trusted her with the worst thing that ever happened to me. And then I proved myself no better than the monster I described.
It's not optional.
My own words, less than an hour ago.
You don't have to ask. It's not optional.
You belong to me now. Every choice you make, I allow.
The parallel is so clear I don't know how I missed it. The same assumption underneath both statements:I know better than you. Your autonomy is mine to grant or revoke. Submit, and I'll call it protection.
I've become him.
The realization buckles my knees. I sink onto the mat, head in my hands.
"Maximus?"
The voice comes from the doorway. I jerk upright, instinctively reaching for composure, for the mask I've worn so long it feels like my real face.
Marcellus stands at the threshold, his expression shifting from concern to alarm as he takes in whatever he sees on my face.
"I've been looking for you for two hours," he says carefully. "You weren't in your study. Weren't answering comms."
Two hours. I've been in here for two hours.
"I'm fine," I say, and my voice comes out rough. Scraped raw.
