(Elena POV)
The Safehouse didn't look like a home.
It looked like a fortress.
A sprawling, grey-stone estate tucked so deep into the woods that the trees seemed to lean over the roof, hiding it from the moonlight. As Luca killed the engine, the silence that rushed into the SUV was deafening. No city hum. No sirens. Just the sound of the wind whistling through the pines and the heavy, synchronized breathing of the three men surrounding me.
"We're here," Luca said, his voice dropping the "soldier" edge for a second. He looked back at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes searching mine. "You're okay, Elena. The sensors are clear. We're the only ones for miles."
I didn't move. I couldn't.
My fingers were still locked with Alessandro's. He hadn't let go for the entire three-hour drive, and my hand felt numb, pinned against the leather seat like a specimen in a jar.
"Let her go, Alessandro," Matteo muttered, opening his door. The interior light flicked on, blinding me for a moment. "She looks like she's about to faint."
Alessandro didn't snap back this time. He just slowly uncurled his fingers from mine. The loss of his grip felt like losing a limb. I stared at my hand, watching the blood rush back into my skin, leaving ghost-white marks where his knuckles had pressed into mine.
"Out," Alessandro commanded softly.
I stumbled as I stepped onto the gravel driveway. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else—someone much smaller, much weaker. Everything was too big. The house was too big. The trees were too dark. The men were too tall.
Alessandro grabbed my suitcase, but it was Luca who walked beside me, his hand hovering near the small of my back without actually touching me. He was giving me space, but I didn't want space. Space felt like a vacuum that was going to suck the air out of my lungs.
Inside, the house was cold.
It smelled of floor wax and old books—a sterile, lonely smell. There were no pictures on the walls. No rugs to soften the echo of our footsteps on the marble.
"I'll check the lower levels," Matteo said, his voice echoing. He flicked a switch, and the chandelier above us hummed to life, casting long, jagged shadows across the floor.
I stood in the center of the foyer, clutching the hem of my oversized sweater. It was the one I'd packed—the soft, pink one with the frayed sleeves. I started twisting the yarn around my thumb, over and over, until it turned purple.
"Elena?"
It was Luca. He was standing right in front of me now.
"You're shaking. Is it the cold?"
I shook my head, but I couldn't stop. It wasn't just my hands anymore. It was my jaw. My knees. My whole body was vibrating with a fear so deep it felt like it was coming from my bones.
"I… I don't like the shadows," I whispered.
My voice sounded different. Higher. Thinner. Like a recording of a child.
Alessandro stopped at the foot of the stairs, my suitcase hitting the floor with a heavy thud. He turned, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked at me.
"The shadows can't hurt you. I told you, you're safe."
"No," I whimpered, the word slipping out before I could stop it. "Big. Everything is too big."
I felt a hot prickle behind my eyes. I didn't want to be a Moretti. I didn't want to be a witness. I didn't want to be a student. I just wanted… I wanted to be small. I wanted someone to tell me what to do without growling at me.
I sank to the floor right there on the marble, pulling my knees to my chest. I buried my face in the soft wool of my sweater, the smell of my own laundry detergent the only familiar thing left in the world.
"Elena, get up," Alessandro said, his footsteps approaching. "The floor is freezing."
"No!" I cried out, the sound muffled by my knees. I started rocking, just a little. A tiny, rhythmic motion that made the world feel less chaotic. "Go 'way. Go 'way."
The silence that followed was different. It wasn't the heavy, angry silence from the car. It was confused.
"Alessandro, stop," Luca whispered. I heard him crouch down on the marble. I could feel his warmth, but he didn't touch me yet. "She's crashing. She's had too much."
"She's acting like a child," Alessandro's voice was closer now, but it sounded… uncertain.
"Maybe because that's the only place she feels safe right now," Matteo's voice came from the hallway. He didn't sound like a playboy anymore. He sounded worried.
I felt a hand—warm and steady—rest on the top of my head. It wasn't Alessandro's possessive grip. It was Luca. He stroked my hair, his fingers moving in slow, rhythmic circles.
"Hey, Little Bird," Luca said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a low, soothing hum. "It's okay. You don't have to be big right now. We've got the doors locked. The monsters can't get in."
I peeked out from behind my knees, one eye visible. Luca was smiling at me—a real, soft smile.
"Hungry?" he asked. "Or do you just want to find a blanket?"
"Blanket," I whispered, my thumb instinctively finding its way toward my mouth before I pulled it back, blushing. "The soft one."
Matteo appeared with a glass of warm milk. He didn't say anything snarky. He just knelt on my other side. "I found the kitchen. And the pantry has those cookies you like. The ones with the stars on them."
I looked at them. The three most dangerous men I'd ever met were all on their knees in a cold foyer, just so they wouldn't look so tall. Just so I wouldn't be scared.
Alessandro was still standing, but even he had stepped back, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked frustrated, but he didn't look angry. He looked like he was watching something fragile that he didn't know how to pick up without breaking.
"Can I carry you?" Luca asked, reaching out his arms.
I didn't think about it. I didn't worry about being "involved in their world" or the kiss from earlier. I just reached out, my hands clutching his neck as he lifted me like I weighed nothing.
"Stay close," I whispered into his shoulder.
"Always," Luca promised.
As we headed up the stairs, I saw Alessandro watching us. He looked at my small hand tucked into Luca's shirt, and for the first time, he didn't look like a wolf.
He looked like a man who had just realized that to keep me, he'd have to learn a whole new set of rules.
⸻