Chapter 32
Aria’s POV)
Warmth.
The scent of tomatoes and basil fills the air, wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. I swing my legs beneath the chair, my feet not quite touching the floor. The old wooden table wobbles when I lean forward, but I don’t mind.
Papà is at the stove, humming as he stirs a pot of sauce. His sleeves are rolled up, a dusting of flour clinging to his forearm.
“Eat, Aria,” he says without turning. “Before it gets cold.”
I grin, twirling my fork into the pasta he made just for me. “It’s good, Papà.”
The front door slams open.
I jump. My fork clatters onto the plate.
The air shifts, warm and safe one moment–frigid the next.
Two men in black masks storm in, their boots loud against the floor. My heart leaps into my throat.
Papà moves fast, faster than I’ve ever seen. He yanks open a cabinet, shoves me inside.
His hands shake when he presses a finger to his lips. “Stay quiet, Aria. No matter what.”
I don’t understand.
I want to scream, What’s happening? but my voice is gone.
Footsteps.
A harsh voice demands something–money, loyalty, a name. I don’t know.
Then-
A gunshot.
I flinch as the deafening sound crashes through the tiny kitchen.
Papà stumbles.
For a second, I think maybe he just fell. Maybe he’ll get up, smile at me, tell me it’s okay.
But then I see the blood.
It spreads across his white shirt, dripping onto the floor.
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Chapter 32
My father doesn’t get up.
The men step closer. Their shadows loom over me.
I know I’m next.
I wake up gasping, my throat tight, the scream trapped somewhere deep inside me.
My chest heaves, my skin clammy with sweat. The room is too dark, the shadows stretching like they did that night.
I can still smell the blood. The gunpowder.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the images to fade, but they don’t. They never do.
A sound near the door makes me jolt.
I turn sharply, my breath uneven-
And meet Enzo’s eyes.
He stands at the threshold, shirt rumpled, hair tousled like he just woke up. But his gaze? It’s sharp. Searching.
I blink, my pulse hammering. I don’t even remember sitting up, don’t remember him coming in.
“Enzo,” I manage, my voice hoarse.
He doesn’t speak at first. Just steps forward, slow and steady, like he’s afraid I’ll break if he moves too fast.
“You were screaming,” he says quietly.
I swallow hard, my throat dry. “I–I was dreaming.”
His jaw tightens. “Not just any dream.”
I don’t respond. I can’t.
Because if I say it out loud, it becomes real again.
I force my hands to stop shaking, clenching the sheets like they can hold me together. My head is still spinning, trapped between past and present.
Enzo crouches beside the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. He’s close enough that I can see the faint scar by his temple, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for me but doesn’t.
He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask.
He just waits.
I take a breath, slow and shaky. “It was just a dream,” I whisper.
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Chapter 32
A lie.
We both know it.
But Enzo nods anyway, his voice softer this time. “Yeah. Just a dream.”
The silence stretches between us. It should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t.
He stays crouched beside me for a while, watching, like he’s making sure I won’t slip back into that nightmare the second
he leaves.
Eventually, he exhales, shifts to stand. “You should try to sleep.”
Panic grips me before I can stop it.
I don’t want to be alone. Not right now.
“Enzo,” I blurt, my fingers curling into the blanket. He pauses, looking at me. I swallow hard, my pride warring with my
fear.
Then, quietly, “Stay.”
For a second, he doesn’t move.
Then, without a word, he grabs the chair from the corner of the room and pulls it closer to the bed. The legs scrape softly against the floor as he sinks into it, one arm resting casually on the edge of the mattress.
I hesitate only for a moment before reaching out, wrapping my fingers tightly around his hand.
He doesn’t pull away.
Instead, his grip tightens just slightly, steady and warm, grounding me.
His free hand moves slowly, brushing damp strands of hair from my forehead. The touch is careful, almost hesitant.
“You’re safe, Aria,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”
My throat tightens.
I don’t know why his words make something in my chest ache, but they do.
“I won’t leave you,” he says, voice low and firm. “Not tonight.”
The tension in my body loosens, little by little. My eyes grow heavier, the exhaustion creeping back in.
Enzo’s hand is still in mine, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against my skin. It’s a quiet promise.
Safe.
Warm.
I let the darkness pull me under again.
3/4
Chapter 32
This time, I don’t fight it.
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Bound To My Mafla Stepuncles
