Alessia waited until the night bled deep and quiet. The mansion had gone still — only the soft hum of crickets and the faint crackle of distant firelight broke the silence.
She'd spent the whole day pretending to be calm, pretending to trust him. But in truth, every glance he gave her, every word he spoke, made her heart throb with confusion and fury.
She wasn't his prisoner.
She was her father's daughter.
And no matter how much she wanted to believe his words, she couldn't.
When the guards finally changed posts, she moved. Bare feet silent on the marble, she crept down the corridor, every step a prayer that the floor wouldn't betray her. She found the main door slightly ajar — freedom gleaming like a whisper of hope beyond it.
She ran.
But she didn't get far.
A strong hand grabbed her from behind, spinning her around and slamming her against the wall. The air left her lungs in a gasp as she stared up — into his eyes.
Lorenzo.
His jaw was tight, his pupils dark with rage. The calm, teasing man she'd known hours ago was gone.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Alessia?" he growled, his hand still pinning her wrist above her head.
"Leaving," she spat, glaring up at him. "You can't keep me here like some trophy!"
His grip tightened. "You could've been killed out there. My father's men are everywhere. Do you even know what you just walked into?"
"I don't care!" she shouted. "You think I'd rather be your captive? You think I'll sit here like some—"
"Like someone I'm trying to protect!" he snapped, cutting her off. His voice echoed through the hall, low and furious.
She froze, caught off guard by the crack in his tone — the raw emotion bleeding through his anger.
"You think I wanted this?" he said, stepping closer, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. "You think I enjoy locking you up? Every time you try to run, you make it harder to keep you alive."
She blinked, trying to steady her voice. "Then let me go. Let me protect myself."
He shook his head slowly. "You don't get it, do you? They're not after your family anymore, Alessia. They're after you."
Her lips parted, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he released her wrist with a deep breath and turned away, running a hand through his hair. "If I hadn't caught you, they'd have you by now. Next time, don't test me like this."
"And if I do?" she challenged softly.
He turned back, eyes burning with something between fury and pain.
"Then I won't be gentle."
The words sent a chill through her, not because of the threat — but because she knew he meant them not out of hate… but fear.
She stayed silent as he walked away, his footsteps heavy against the cold marble floor.
For the first time since she was taken, Alessia didn't know if she was truly a prisoner —
or if she was being protected by the very devil she'd been taught to hate.