Page 17 of His to Destroy

I lean over the table in my private study, Enzo standing at my right. He flips through photographs from the scene of the attempted kidnapping. Details. Angles. Footprints.

Sancia paces, reading texts from her network. There are several cards on the table. Several names of potential syndicate suspects.

"We need to send a message," Enzo mutters. “All of them.”

"Not yet. And what if it’s none of them?" I reply.

“What would you do if it’s one of them?”

“First, I would seal the front door. Then I burn the house."

Sancia stops pacing. “She won’t agree easily, you know. If she hasn’t already."

Enzo and I look at her in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes.

“The proposal? Did you forget so soon?” she clarifies.

I lean back in my chair, lacing my fingers together.

"She doesn’t have to agree. She just has to understand."

Sancia arches a brow. "Is that your plan, then? Reason with her until she bends? How much luck has that gotten you?"

“Not much. But she’ll see reason soon.”

“What, you’re gonna make up a scary story to tell her?” Enzo snickers.

"No," I say. "I’m going to give her the truth."

Because truth is all I have left.

I find Almeria in the courtyard later. Her arms are wrapped around herself, eyes on Luca, who is drawing chalk stars across the stone tiles. I had thought she would have upped and left the premises after our exchange in the kitchen earlier today.

But I can tell that even if she won’t admit it, she feels safe here and leaving terrifies her.

She looks so out of place here. Like wildflowers in a graveyard.

When she hears my footsteps, she doesn’t turn.

"We’re not doing the marriage," she says quietly.

"We don’t have to," I agree.

She glances over her shoulder. Narrowed eyes. Suspicious.

"You came to your senses?"

"No," I say. "I said we don’t have to. We need to. But I can make this bearable for you. I have options."

That earns me a look.

"You don’t have to share a room with me. You don’t even have to see me. But the marriage—public, binding, legal—needs to happen."

"Why? So you can parade me around like a trophy?"

"So no one touches you. So no one even thinks about hurting your son without fearing what it would cost them. No one steals trophies because it would be obvious. Too obvious."

She crosses her arms. “They already fear you.”

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