MIA'S POV
Days had turned into weeks, and somehow, Viet was the only person who didn't make Mia's skin crawl. He wasn't perfect—he was still one of them, part of Luca's world—but around him, she could breathe. They laughed, they teased each other, and for a few moments she could almost pretend she wasn't a prisoner.
That night they sat in her room, the dim lamp throwing soft light on the walls. Viet was leaned back against the headboard, his legs stretched out, while Mia sat cross-legged on the bed facing him, hugging a pillow to her chest.
"So you really wanna be a musician with that frog voice of yours?" she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Viet raised a brow. "Frog voice? Says the girl who's never even heard me sing."
"Exactly," Mia said, grinning. "You've been talking about it for weeks, but talk is cheap. Prove me wrong."
He smirked, pulling out his phone. "Alright then. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Mia leaned forward, pretending to be his number one fan. "Ok, superstar. Impress me."
Viet scrolled, found a track, and then cleared his throat dramatically. "Fine, I'll give you something real. Let's go with Swim by Chase Atlantic."
The beat started low from his phone speaker, and Viet began to sing.
"I bet you feel it now, baby
Especially since we've only known each other one day
But, I've gotta work shit out, baby
I'm exercising demons, got 'em runnin' 'round the block now
Location drop, now
Pedal to the floor like you're runnin' from the cops now
Oh, what a cop out
You picked a dance with the devil and you lucked out
Yeah
The water's getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim
Out in California, I'll be forward stroking, swim
So hard to ignore ya, 'specially when I'm smoking, swim
World is on my shoulders, keep your body open, swim
I'm swimming, I'm swimming, I'm swimming, yeah
I'm swimming, I'm swimming, I'm swimming, yeah
Out in California, I'll be forward stroking, swim
So hard to ignore ya, keep your body open, swim
Pop a couple pills in the daytime
Heard you got a friend, what's her head like?
Probably should've fucked on the first night
Now I gotta wait for the green light
I don't wanna wait for no green light
Narcolepsy got me feeling stage fright
Luckily I float at insane heights
Luckily, luckily, luckily, yeah.....
His voice wasn't polished, but it was raw, strong, and had something in it Mia didn't expect—emotion.
His words filled the small room, and for a while, Mia just stared at him, stunned. The boy who was usually so quiet, who mostly followed orders, was suddenly alive in a way she hadn't seen before. He leaned into the song, his voice rising and falling with the beat, his eyes occasionally flicking to hers as if daring her to look away.
When he finally stopped, Mia blinked. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"Well?" Viet said smugly. "Still think I sound like a frog?"
Mia shook her head, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. "Wow… I'm speechless. Actually speechless. That was—" She threw her hands up. "—amazing. You're wonderful. You don't even need music school, you're already perfect."
Viet burst out laughing. "Perfect? Don't say that. I'll get a big head."
"I mean it," Mia insisted. "Your voice is perfect. You're perfect."
He snorted. "Careful, princess, sounds like you're falling in love with me already."
Mia shoved the pillow at him. "Shut up!" she said, laughing with him. "I'm just saying the truth!"
He held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll accept the compliment."
Their laughter died down into a comfortable silence. Viet tilted his head at her. "What about you? Can you sing?"
Mia's smile faded a little.
"I heard you once," Viet added quietly.
She looked at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"
"Back when Luca first brought you here," he said. "You didn't know I was nearby, but… I heard you humming. You have a soft voice. You should sing for me sometime."
Mia looked away, her chest tightening. That memory wasn't a good one.
"Hey, don't do that," Viet said softly. "Don't let him take that away from you too."
Mia forced a laugh. "Yes, your majesty," she said, mocking his serious tone.
Viet grinned. "That's better."
She leaned back, thinking. "I can't sing for you, but… I can dance."
"You dance?"
"Yeah. I used to practice back at the orphanage. Whenever I had free time, I'd just dance. It was the only thing that made me feel free."
Viet's expression softened. "I never asked about your parents, did I?"
Mia shook her head. "There's nothing to ask. I never knew them. I was dropped at the orphanage as a baby. They're just… gone."
"Sorry," Viet muttered.
She looked at him sharply. "Sorry for what? They're gone already. You don't have to carry my sadness too."
The words hung in the air before she suddenly smiled. "Anyway, since you sang for me, I'll dance for you. But you have to be my judge."
Viet chuckled. "Dance for me? Alright then. Impress me, ballerina."
She crawled off the bed and stood in the small open space, brushing her hair back. "Play me something."
"What do you want?"
"The Machine by Reed Wonder."
Viet raised a brow. "Classy choice." He played the song, and the beat filled the room.
Mia closed her eyes and started moving. Her body swayed, smooth and sharp, each step timed with the rhythm. The way she moved wasn't trained like a professional, but natural, flowing, like the music had been waiting for her body to exist.
Viet watched, stunned. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath. She spun, bent low, lifted her arms—her face glowing as if, for the first time, she wasn't trapped in Luca's dark world but somewhere else, somewhere free.
When the song ended, Mia stopped, panting softly. She looked up at Viet nervously. "So? Judge?"
Viet clapped dramatically. "Ten out of ten. You move like the music was made for you. Be my personal dancer?"
Mia giggled, crawling back onto the bed beside him. "Fine. Your majesty."
They both laughed, lying back on the bed. For the first time in weeks, Mia felt something she thought she'd lost—joy.
---
LUCA'S POV
Miles away, Luca sat in his office, the screens glowing in front of him. His cigarette burned low between his fingers as he replayed the footage over and over.
Mia. Dancing. Laughing. Smiling.
But not for him.
For Viet.
His jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white around the cigarette. The sight of her moving so freely, so beautifully, in front of another man was enough to set fire in his veins.
She never danced for him.
Not once.
And now she was smiling, laughing, looking at Viet like he was her safe place. Like Viet was the one who gave her light in the dark.
Luca leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.
"Why him, piccolo?" he muttered under his breath. "Why does he get your smile, your laughter, your dance… and I don't?"
The more he watched, the worse it burned. Viet cheering, Mia giggling, her eyes glowing with a softness that was never his.
Jealousy twisted inside him like a knife.
He slammed his fist against the table, the ashtray rattling from the force. His cigarette dropped, forgotten.
He hated it. Hated the way she looked at Viet. Hated that Viet touched a piece of her soul that Luca couldn't reach, no matter how much he tried to chain her, scare her, break her.
But most of all, he hated himself. Because he knew why.
She feared him. She obeyed him. But she would never laugh with him. Never dance for him. Never look at him the way she looked at Viet.
Unless he made her.
A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes stayed glued to Mia's image on the screen, like a predator marking prey.
"Enjoy it while you can, piccolo," he whispered. "Because soon… I'll take it all back. Every laugh, every dance, every breath you share with him… I'll make you regret it."
He lit another cigarette, his hand steady now.
"And Viet…" he muttered, his voice like ice. "I'll make sure you die with her name on your lips."
The screen flickered with Mia's smile, and Luca's smirk only deepened.
Because nothing fueled his obsession more than watching her give herself to someone else.
---