Page 70 of Ruined By Capture

Enzo's eyes flick from me to Alessio, then back again. Something shifts in his expression—a subtle change that speaks volumes. His gaze moves deliberately from Alessio's protectivestance to my face, then down to where Alessio's fingertips touch me.

Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by what looks suspiciously like amusement.

"Interesting," he murmurs, just loud enough for us both to hear.

Alessio's jaw tightens. "The car's ready?"

"Waiting outside," Enzo replies, still watching us with that knowing look.

My gaze follows Alessio as he grabs a small black duffel bag from the counter, carefully placing the USB drive and a new laptop inside—one we haven't used yet.

"Let's go," he says, his hand finding the small of my back as he guides me toward the door.

Outside, a sleek Maserati Levante waits for us—glossy black exterior gleaming in the daylight. The vehicle screams wealth and power without trying. Enzo slides into the driver's seat while Matteo takes the passenger side. Alessio opens the rear door for me before joining me in the back.

The buttery leather seats cradle my body as I settle in. The car smells of expensive cologne and new leather—a stark contrast to the warehouse's musty air or even the clinical cleanliness of the safehouse.

As we pull away from the property I push thoughts of last night to the back of my mind.

Not now. It will take more time to work that through.

I focus on what lies ahead. We need more—we need whatever's in that safe at my father's office.

And for that we need Leonardo.

My brother. The person I once trusted most in this world.

I watch the scenery blur past the tinted windows, sorry to leave that ocean before it cleansed my psyche. The weight ofeverything—the files, my father's betrayal, Leonardo, the man I killed—settles heavy on my shoulders.

My eyelids suddenly feel like they're made of lead.

"You okay?" Alessio asks quietly, his voice reaching me through a fog.

I nod, not trusting my voice. The car's smooth motion rocks me slightly. I shift in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. My head drifts toward Alessio's shoulder before I catch myself.

"It's fine," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Rest."

Exhaustion rolls over me like a tidal wave. Despite sleeping through the night with Alessio's arms around me, my body craves more. The adrenaline crash from yesterday's violence, the emotional toll of everything we've discovered, the intensity of what happened between us—it's all catching up to me at once.

I lay my head on Alessio's shoulder. His body tenses for a fraction of a second before relaxing, his arm shifting slightly to accommodate me. The scent of him—sandalwood and something uniquely him—surrounds me.

My mother used to say that the body knows what it needs even when the mind refuses to listen. Right now, mine is demanding rest.

The rhythmic motion of the car becomes hypnotic. The soft hum of the impeccable machine forms a soothing white noise. My thoughts begin to drift, disconnected and hazy.

I fight it for a moment, forcing my eyes open to see Enzo staring at us in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. Matteo says something I can't quite catch, his voice a distant murmur.

My eyelids grow heavier with each blink until they refuse to open again.

The last thing I register is Alessio's hand gently covering mine where it rests between us, his thumb drawing small circles on my skin.

Then I'm gone, pulled under, the gliding motion lulling me into dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 24

Iwatch Melania drift to sleep against my shoulder, her breathing gradually slowing into a steady rhythm. Her hand lies between us and I cover it with mine. The simple connection grounds me as my mind races.

In the rearview mirror, Enzo's eyes meet mine. The knowing look on his face speaks volumes. He's not stupid—he's seen how I positioned myself between him and Melania, how my hand rests on hers, how she sleeps against me so comfortably. These small gestures reveal what words haven't.

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