Page 12 of Ruined By Blood
"I'm pleased to meet you, Sienna Sterling."
Enzo stands before me with that name hanging in the air between us. My name. My prison sentence stamped on my birth certificate. The identity I've already tried to escape by running.
"Please," I whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. My hands twist in the soft blanket covering my lap, the fabric bunching between my fingers. "Don't take me back."
His eyes narrow slightly, those dark depths calculatingas he watches me. The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things I won't say. Can't say. Because once I start talking, the floodgates will open, and I don't know if I'll ever stop.
"I'd rather you kill me." The words slip out, raw and honest. My first truth in this beautiful prison of his. "If those are my options—going back or dying—I choose death."
He moves closer, each step measured and controlled, his massive frame blocking the light from the windows.
"Kill me," I say again, not a question but a request. My voice steadies with the certainty of it. "It would be a mercy compared to what he'll do when he finds me."
"I need you to talk to me." Enzo's voice softens just slightly, though the steel remains. "Soon. Not everything, not all at once, but something. If I don't know what I'm protecting you from, I can't keep you safe."
I look up at him, this dangerous man offering protection when I've known nothing but possession.
"Why would you protect me at all?" I ask, the question escaping before I can stop it.
For a moment, he doesn't answer, and I wonder if I've pushed too far. Men like him don't explain themselves to anyone, especially not to girls like me.
"In my family," he finally says, his voice low and controlled, "we don't allow others to beat women on our properties."
The bluntness of his statement catches me off guard.
"The Venetian Rose is ours. What happens there reflects on us." He takes another step closer. "Whoever did this to you did it on Feretti ground. That makes it my business."
I study his face, searching for the lie. For the hidden agenda that must be there. No one helps without expectingsomething in return. That's the first lesson my father taught me.
"So it's about... pride?" I ask carefully, still trying to understand. "Your reputation?"
His dark eyes hold mine, unflinching. "It's about what we stand for. There are lines we don't cross. Lines we don't let others cross on our territory."
I almost want to laugh at the irony. A criminal with a moral code. A monster with principles.
"Who was the man at the bar?" Enzo asks, his voice hardening. "The one who called you his property?"
I flinch at the memory, feeling the phantom grip of Cortez's fingers digging into my arm.
"What the hell happened, Sienna?" Enzo presses when I remain silent.
My fingers twist the blanket tighter. "I appreciate everything you've done for me," I say carefully, measuring each word. The guest room, the clothes, the doctor. Kindnesses that feel like traps waiting to spring. "I'll repay whatever it cost you, whatever you want, but I can't... I won't say anything that will make me regret it."
"You don't understand," I continue when he doesn't speak. "Telling you will only put me in bigger danger than I already am."
"I'm offering protection," he says, as though it's that simple. As though words could be shields.
I shake my head, a bitter almost-smile touching my lips. "There are some people you can't protect me from. Trust me, killing now would be better for you too."
Enzo crosses his arms, his broad shoulders blocking more of the window light. "Better for me?" The question comes with a dangerous edge.
"Safer," I clarify, meeting his gaze directly. "You have no idea what you're getting involved in."
"Try me."
The invitation hangs between us, tempting in its simplicity.
"I can't," I whisper, dropping my gaze to my hands. "I just can't."
