The night didn’t bring peace.

It never really did, not in Alessio’s house, not in that bed that smelled of smoke, sweat, and something darker. The silence around them was thick, but silence didn’t mean safety. Silence meant the walls were listening. Silence meant he had nowhere to run.

Noa couldn’t sleep, not with Alessio’s arm clamped heavily around his waist like a lock, not with the weight of the iron still lying across the nightstand like a sleeping animal ready to wake. Every ...