Chapter 38
Princess
T he door slams open so hard it nearly comes off the hinges.
I jump, my heart leaping into my throat, my fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket I’d been curled up in.
Lucio. He’s furious.
Not the teasing, cocky kind of mad he gets when I push him too far. Not the annoyed, barely contained irritation when I refuse to listen to him.
No, this is something else. This is lethal.
His face is like stone, his dark eyes burning with something raw and violent, his fists clenched like he’s barely restraining himself.
I stand, slowly, my pulse hammering. “Lucio?—”
“Cut the fucking shit.” His voice is like a whip, sharp, merciless. “I know what you did.”
I freeze. “I don’t?—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
He stalks closer, and I instinctively take a step back because he looks like he’s ready to break something. To break me.
“Lucio, I don’t know what you’re talking abo?—”
“Are you serious right now?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I traced the fucking signal, Princess. The breach came from your place.”
He knows. And now he can prove it.
I swallow down the panic, force myself to stay calm.
“That’s not possible,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Lucio’s jaw clenches so tight, I swear I hear his teeth grind. Then, in a flash, he moves, gripping my chin and tilting my face up to his, his grip just shy of bruising.
“Liar.” The word drips from his lips like poison.
I try to pull away, but he tightens his hold, forcing me to look at him.
“You think you’re smarter than me?” His breath is hot against my skin, his voice a deadly growl. “That I wouldn’t fucking check?”
I shove at his chest, hard. “I didn’t do anything!”
His eyes flash with something dark. Something like betrayal. Something I don’t want to name.
“You’re still lying to me,” he murmurs, shaking his head, his grip loosening, just slightly.
For a second, I think he’s calming down.
Then he shoves me back against the wall. Not hard. Not enough to hurt. But enough to remind me exactly who he is and what he’s capable of.
“Do you understand what you’ve done?” His voice is lower now, more controlled. But somehow, that’s worse. “Because of you, my family was attacked. Because of you, my ma is in a fucking hospital bed fighting for her life.”
My chest tightens. “I didn’t mean?—”
“You didn’t mean to?” His laugh is bitter, sharp. “That’s fucking rich.”
I press my back against the wall, my nails digging into my palms. “Lucio, I swear to you, I didn’t do this.”
I don’t know why I keep insisting on denying that I was behind the breach, but every time I open my mouth to admit it, I panic and lie straight to his face.
He studies me, his gaze searching, unreadable. Then he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face and stepping back.
For the first time since he stormed in, I see something other than pure rage in his expression. Something like hurt.
“You were the only one I trusted.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “The only fucking one.”
Something inside me cracks. But I can’t tell him the truth. Not yet.
So I do the only thing I can: I lie again.
“I didn’t do it.”
His jaw tightens. His hands clench into fists. Then he grabs my wrist and yanks me toward the door.
“Lucio, what the fuck?—”
I stumble, nearly tripping, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. His grip is tight, unyielding, dragging me through the apartment like I weigh nothing.
My pulse pounds, my mind racing.
He’s taking me somewhere. He’s taking me to them. To his brothers. To Emiliano Folonari.
My stomach clenches, fear coiling low in my gut.
“Lucio, wait. Please, let’s talk…”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at me.
We reach the front door and he shoves it open, dragging me out into the hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby, and straight to his car.
My heart is a hammer in my chest. I dig my heels into the ground, trying to stop him.
“Where are you taking me?”
Nothing.
Silent. Cold. Brutal.
He opens the passenger door and shoves me inside, slamming it shut before I can move. A second later, he’s in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight I swear I hear his teeth grind.
I swallow hard, glancing at the door handle.
Can I run? Would he chase me? Would he shoot me in the street like the traitor he thinks I am?
Before I can even consider it, the locks click. The engine roars to life. He peels out of the parking lot like a demon chasing hell.
I brace myself, gripping the seat as the speedometer climbs.
He’s driving too fast. Too reckless. Like he doesn’t give a fuck about anything anymore.
Has he ever given a fuck to begin with?
The silence between us is thick, suffocating, drowning me in uncertainty. I chance a glance at him. His knuckles are white, his expression unreadable, carved from stone.
I lick my lips, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Lucio, please. Tell me what you’re going to do.”
Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.
I shake my head, my throat tightening. “Are you taking me to Emiliano? To your brothers?”
Still nothing. The tension in my chest sharpens, slicing through my ribs, pressing against my lungs.
“Lucio, say something!”
He just presses harder on the gas.
The first stop is at a gas station. Lucio doesn’t say a word as he steps out, fills the tank, and grabs some bottles of water and a bag of food from the convenience store.
I don’t try to run. Not because I don’t want to, but because I know he’d catch me. Because some fucked-up part of me still trusts him.
He gets back in the car and starts driving again.
Still nothing. The silence is suffocating, thick with tension. With words unspoken. With accusations hanging between us like ghosts.
I take a deep breath, trying again. “Lucio, please. Where are we going?”
No answer. He just keeps driving. And that’s when I notice.
We’re leaving New York.
The skyline shrinks in the distance, swallowed by the night, the highways stretching longer, emptier. My stomach tightens.
“Lucio—”
“Give me your phone.” The words cut through the silence like a blade, cold and sharp.
I blink, glancing at him. “What?”
His eyes stay on the road, his expression unreadable. “Give me your fucking phone, Princess.”
Something sinks deep in my gut. “Why?”
His jaw locks, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Phone. Now.”
I hesitate, gripping my phone in my lap, my fingers tightening around it.
He’s already taken me away. He’s already dragged me out of his apartment, driving me God knows where. And now he wants to take my only connection to the outside world?
I shake my head. “No.”
His head turns slightly, his dark eyes flashing. “Princess.”
A warning. A threat.
My pulse spikes. Slowly, I hold it out, my breath catching when his large hand wraps around mine, yanking it from my grip.
He throws it out the fucking window. I watch in horror as it smashes against the pavement, shattering into a hundred pieces.
“What the fuck was that for?!” I explode, twisting toward him, my chest heaving.
His voice is calm. Cold. Deadly. “Matteo already found you. You think they wouldn’t track your phone too?”
I feel lightheaded.
Because he’s right. They would. They probably already were.
And he just cut me off from everything. From them. From help. From any chance of escape.
I lick my lips, forcing myself to breathe.
“Lucio,” I try again, softer this time. “Where are we going?”
Nothing. Just silence. Just the hum of the road beneath the tires, the faint sound of the radio playing something low and slow.
A chill creeps down my spine, settling into my bones. Because for the first time since meeting Lucio, I don’t know what he’s thinking.
And I don’t know if I’m going to make it out of this alive.