“What a Beautiful Sight?”

“What a beautiful sight?” Marco murmured as he stepped into the garden.

The path stretched ahead, winding between lush flowerbeds and neatly trimmed hedges. It was a quiet oasis, almost too peaceful to belong to the De Luca mansion — a place built on power, fear, and blood.

The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from the night before. Dew clung to the petals of roses and lilies, shimmering like fragile jewels in the soft morning light.

Marco walked slowly, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the riot of color around him. He hadn’t expected to find something like this here. In a world where cruelty was currency, beauty didn’t usually survive. Yet here it was — delicate, thriving.

He crouched near a row of white roses, brushing his fingertips gently over one of the petals. It was soft and warm against his cold skin.

“How do you grow in a place like this?” he whispered.

“I could ask you the same question,” came a calm voice from behind.

Marco turned to see Luca approaching. His hands rested loosely at his sides, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp.

“Did Alessandro send you?” Marco asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Thought I would run away?”

“You know Alessandro will be angry if he finds you out here,” Luca said, stopping a few steps away.

Marco straightened, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Of course he will. He’s always angry about something… that megalomaniac boss of yours.”

“You are his captive,” Luca replied evenly. “He’s not known for being lenient with his prey.”

Marco let out a sharp breath. “So I’m not even allowed to walk around? Is breathing next on the list? Should I stop breathing the De Luca air?”

Luca’s mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. “You’re not a prisoner,” he said. “But you’re not exactly free either.”

The words landed heavier than Marco wanted to admit. He turned away, walking further along the path. To his surprise, Luca fell into step beside him.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the mansion behind them.

“He’s not what I expected,” Marco said finally.

“Who?” Luca asked.

“Alessandro,” Marco replied after a pause. “I thought he’d be… colder. Less human. One minute he’s threatening to break me, the next he’s wrapping my hand like he actually cares. It doesn’t make sense.”

Luca’s lips curved slightly. “It makes perfect sense. You just don’t know him yet.”

Marco frowned. “So, who is he?”

“Alessandro is… complicated,” Luca said after a beat. “His father expects him to be perfect. The men expect him to be ruthless. And somewhere in all that, he’s still trying to figure out who he is.”

Marco stayed quiet, mulling over his words.

They walked a little further before Marco spoke again. “Why isn’t he married? Most heirs are — it’s one of the first moves for power. But Alessandro…” He trailed off.

Luca chuckled softly. “He’ll marry when the time is right. Or when Augustus decides it’s time. Either way, Alessandro isn’t in a hurry.”

There was something in Luca’s tone — an unspoken truth that Marco couldn’t quite pin down.

His gaze dropped to the faint mark just above Luca’s shirt collar. It didn’t take much guessing to know where it came from.

“That happened during the fight with Leo, didn’t it?” Marco asked quietly.

Luca’s expression didn’t change. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Marco said, genuine regret slipping into his voice. “I’m sorry. For what he did.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him.”

“I know,” Marco said softly. “But I want to. Leo’s not… bad. He just hates losing. Always has. Since we were kids, he needed to win at everything. And when he couldn’t…” Marco shook his head. “He’d take it too far.”

“We all have our flaws,” Luca replied. “It wasn’t personal.”

Luca’s eyes flicked to the bandage on Marco’s hand. “How’s your hand?”

“This?” Marco lifted it with a small chuckle. “I’m fine.”

A faint smile passed between them — a small thread of understanding in an otherwise tense world.

They reached the far edge of the garden where the path curved back toward the mansion. Luca glanced at the sky, then at Marco.

“We should head back before Alessandro notices you’re gone.”

Marco smirked. “Can’t let the king get angry.”

“Trust me,” Luca said. “You don’t want to see him when he’s angry.”

“I’ve seen that more than enough times,” Marco muttered under his breath.

As they walked back, Marco glanced one last time at the flowers swaying in the breeze — untouched by the violence that ruled the house.

And he couldn’t help but wonder…

Maybe Alessandro was like those flowers. Strong enough to grow in the cold.

But surrounded by thorns.