Elena stood frozen, trapped between the past and the present, between the girl she used to be and the woman she was becoming.
Alessio didn't move. He simply watched her with a quiet, knowing intensity, as if he could already see the war raging inside her.
And maybe he could.
Because he didn't stop her.
He didn't grab her.
He didn't cage her in his arms.
For the first time, he let her go.
Elena's breath hitched. She should have felt relief. She should have run, should have taken the chance to put as much distance between them as possible.
But her feet wouldn't move.
Her body was still buzzing from his touch, from the way he had claimed her, from the way she had surrendered.
She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as if the pain could ground her.
"Elena."
Her name on his lips was a warning. A promise.
She lifted her chin, forcing herself to look at him.
Alessio's silver eyes were unreadable, but there was no amusement now, no mockery.
"Go," he murmured.
Her stomach twisted.
Go.
She had spent weeks fighting for this moment—for the chance to be free.
So why did it feel like a trap?
Her hands trembled as she turned away, walking toward the door with slow, hesitant steps.
She expected him to stop her.
To grab her wrist.
To growl another threat.
But he didn't.
He simply let her walk away.
And somehow, that was worse.
The Illusion of Freedom
The hallway was silent as she stepped out, her pulse hammering in her ears.
She didn't stop.
Not until she reached the vast, floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the corridor.
And then she saw it.
The city lights stretched out before her, a glittering web of chaos and life. The world was right there, just beyond the glass.
So close.
But she couldn't reach it.
She couldn't just walk out of here.
Because where would she go?
To the life she used to have?
The life she no longer fit into?
Elena swallowed hard, her throat tightening with something dangerously close to grief.
Because the truth was, she wasn't the same woman who had walked into that club the night everything changed.
That Elena had been carefree, untouchable, ignorant.
That Elena had believed in freedom.
This Elena?
She wasn't sure what she believed anymore.
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass—a stranger.
A woman who had been taken, caged, claimed.
A woman who had begged for more.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
She hated him.
She hated herself more.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind her, slow and deliberate.
She didn't need to turn around to know it was him.
"Elena," Alessio's voice was smooth, but there was something dark beneath it. A challenge.
She took a slow breath, her hands gripping the railing in front of her.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
A long pause.
Then—
"I want you to understand."
She turned, her heart pounding.
"Understand what?"
Alessio stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between them.
"That you were never free."
Her chest tightened.
"You think you own me."
His lips curved slightly. Not a smirk. Something colder. Darker.
"I don't think, piccola," he murmured. "I know."
Elena shook her head, but her body betrayed her.
A shiver. A pulse. A craving.
God, she hated him for this.
She hated him for the way her body still burned with the memory of his touch.
For the way her heart betrayed her every time he got too close.
For the way he had burrowed into her mind so deeply that even now, when she should have been thinking about escape, all she could think about was him.
But she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
She wouldn't break again.
So she forced herself to lift her chin, to lie.
"You don't own me."
Alessio studied her for a long moment.
Then, to her absolute horror—he smiled.
Not a cruel smile.
Not a mocking one.
But something almost… satisfied.
As if he knew something she didn't.
As if he was waiting for her to figure it out on her own.
His voice was soft, almost gentle.
"You'll come back to me, Elena."
Her breath caught.
No.
No, she wouldn't.
She turned away from him, staring out the window again, her fists clenching.
She wouldn't go back.
She wouldn't.
But deep down, a part of her already knew the truth.
She had never left.
Not really.
Because even if she walked away—
She would still belong to him.
And Alessio?
He would be waiting.
Waiting for her to finally understand.
That no matter how hard she fought—
She had already lost.