For a moment, there was nothing but silence between us. It was so thick I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. He stood there, unmoving, and yet it felt as though the entire house bowed beneath his presence.

He didn’t rush to speak. He simply looked at me. That stare…sharp, measuring and cold that slid over every inch of me. He looked at me like I was some sort of puzzle he wasn't quite interested in.

My skin prickled.

I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Something in those eyes held me locked, caught between dread and an unwilling pull I didn’t dare name.

Finally, he spoke.

“You cry too loudly.”

His voice was low and deep, with a kind of calm that unsettled me more than if he’d shouted. It wasn’t rough, it was smooth, like a man used to being listened to. Every syllable was measured and, heavy with weight.

Heat flushed up my face. I hadn’t realized he’d heard me. Shame twisted in my chest, mixing with the fear that already gnawed at my ribs.

“I… ” My voice cracked, weak, pathetic in all ways.

“Do not speak,” he cut in.

The words struck and my lips pressed together instinctively.

He moved then, slow, reaching so close to me, closing the distance between us. He didn’t rush. Valerio Moretti was a man who had never needed to rush in his life.

He held my chin up with a little force, forcing me to look at his face.

I could see the faint shadow of beard along his jaw, the faint scar slicing his cheekbone, I felt my knees tremble. He was taller up close, broader, his presence so overwhelming it made the air feel thinner.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I already was, but my gaze had stuttered toward the ground, desperate to avoid the weight of his. Slowly, trembling, I forced my eyes back up to his face.

His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. It was of something colder.

“Good,” he murmured.

His hand lifted. I flinched, every muscle in my body tightening, but he didn’t strike. His fingers brushed beneath my chin, tilting my face upward so I couldn’t drop my gaze again. The touch was light and gentle in a deceptive way, and yet it carried the weight of absolute power.

“You are mine now,” he said softly, as though it were a fact. “Do you understand?”

The words sank into me as my throat closed. I wanted to scream no, to spit in his face, to claw my way out of this house and never look back. But the rifles of his guards outside, the silence of the halls, and the way his eyes pierced through me, all of it reminded me that rebellion here was suicide.

“Yes,” I whispered, though it felt like the word strangled me on its way out.

Valerio’s gaze lingered on my face, unreadable, before he released my chin and stepped back. He didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He simply turned away, as if I were no more than a piece of property that had been delivered intact.

“You will learn the rules,” he said, his voice expectedly rough. “You will keep silent until I grant you leave to speak. You will obey when I command. If you do these things, you will survive.”

Survive? Not live. Not exist freely. Survive.

Surviving was a privilege for me now after everything and being sold like an animal. I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palms.

His steps carried him toward a set of tall double doors at the end of the hall. He didn’t look back as he spoke again.

“You will be shown to your room.”

Room, Not cage, not a cell. But his tone drove out the word of any comfort.

He paused just before the doors, one hand resting lightly on the handle. His head turned slightly, enough for me to see his profile.

“One more thing,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less a threat. “Do not mistake my silence for mercy. If you ever attempt to run, if you ever betray me, i’ll make your life a living hell”

The air left my lungs in a rush.

How did he know i planned to escape here?

He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t guessed. He had stated it as fact.

The doors swung open, and he disappeared through them without another word, leaving me trembling in the silence of his fortress.