Luca's Jealous Rage
I watch Elena from across the vineyard, my fists clenching so tight I feel the bones in my knuckles grind. The sun casts long shadows over the rolling hills, but I can't see anything except her. Her back straight, her head held high, her voice ringing across the courtyard as she screams at him—Mark. My blood boils, fire igniting in my chest, hot and suffocating.
How dare he? How dare he come here—into our world, into her life, and try to pull her back like she's some possession he can drag wherever he wants? I've fought so many battles to protect this vineyard, to build something we both care about, and now this—this arrogance, this entitlement—threatens it all.
I pace, the gravel crunching beneath my boots, rage coiling tighter with every word he speaks. I see him trying to assert control, trying to reach for her, and something snaps inside me. A low growl rises in my throat. My hands twitch, desperate to act, desperate to shield her.
Elena's eyes flash, burning with defiance, but even from here, I feel the tension radiate, the danger crackling like lightning in the air. My chest tightens. She's mine. No one—no one—can touch her like that.
I storm forward, my boots pounding the deck. I reach the edge of the confrontation just as Mark's face contorts in frustration, and my blood lashes out before reason can catch it. "Step away from her," I roar, voice raw and sharp, echoing across the courtyard. "NOW!"
Mark freezes, almost smirking, as if he's amused that I've finally revealed myself. "And who are you?" he sneers, the disdain in his tone cutting deep. "The local boy trying to play hero?"
I feel my vision narrow. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. "I AM NOT PLAYING. SHE BELONGS WITH NO ONE BUT HERSELF. BUT IF YOU THINK YOU'RE WALKING AWAY WITH HER—" I clench my fists until my nails dig into my palms. "—YOU'RE DEAD WRONG."
Elena looks at me, eyes wide, caught between terror and awe. Her voice is steady, calm, but I don't hear her—I can't. My world has shrunk to this one point: Mark. This intruder. This man who dares challenge everything I've fought for.
Mark steps toward her, hands raised as if to pacify, to manipulate. I step closer, mirroring him, rage sharpening every muscle. "ONE MOVE, AND YOU'LL REGRET IT," I warn, teeth clenched, voice shaking with barely-contained fury.
Suddenly, Mark laughs—a low, taunting, infuriating sound. "And you think you can stop me?" His smirk is infuriating, cocky, untouchable—or so he thinks.
I lunge forward, movement explosive, my body charged with jealousy, anger, and protective instinct. Time slows. Dust rises around our boots. Elena's gasp pierces through the tension. I see it all: his surprise, my fury, the world teetering on the edge of chaos.
And then—
A shot rings out. The vineyard freezes. Birds explode from the vines. Elena screams. Mark stumbles, clutching his side. I skid to the ground, heart hammering, adrenaline and fear roaring through me.
I look up. He's bleeding. The moment hangs suspended, heavy, electric. The world tilts. Elena's eyes are wide with horror. I can barely breathe.
The wind whispers through the vines, carrying a single thought: everything has just changed. Nothing will ever be the same.
And in that heartbeat, I know: the fight has only begun.
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