Page 6 of Bound By Honor

The word “agreement” hangs in the air, heavy and loaded. I lean back in my chair, studying Sofia's face for any sign of deceit or trickery. She returns my gaze with an openness that disarms me momentarily.

"An agreement?" I echo.

"Yes," Sofia continues, her voice strengthening. "I understand why you brought me here—why you felt it necessary—but maybe there’s another way we can resolve this without continuing down this path."

It’s hard not to admire her courage—sitting across from me, negotiating her freedom over breakfast as if discussing something as mundane as weekend plans. Yet, a part of me—a part I didn’t know existed until now—is beginning to wonder whether there might be another way out of this for both of us.

"We have all day," I finally say after taking a deep breath. "Talk to me."

"I'm not naive," Sofia continues as she eats her eggs. "I don't expect breakfast to change anything major…but maybe it can change something small."

"What could possibly change?" I challenge her quietly while taking another bite of her perfectly cooked bacon.

"People change." Sofia meets my gaze steadily. "Given time and reason, people can change."

I want to scoff at her words—dismiss them as naive hopefulness—but part of me wonders if, beneath this steady exterior, Sofia sees an outcome to this situation I’ve overlooked.

"Do you really believe that?" I stare at her plump lips, wondering what she’ll say next.

She nods slowly, chewing thoughtfully. "Yes," she replies after swallowing. "I have to believe it."

Her quiet conviction unsettles me more than any struggle or cry for help would, maybe because it challenges something deep inside me—something long buried under layers of cynicism and survival.

“I think you know you can’t keep me here forever. If I’m out there, I can at least try to eliminate the threat. But I’m trapped and have to depend on you doing that for me."

Her boldness surprises me. It shouldn’t after everything I’ve witnessed so far—but it does.

“You’ve only been here a matter of days. I can’t fix everything overnight. We're not in an action movie, where the hero blasts into someone’s house and takes him out. Our world doesn’t operate like that. We can’t risk igniting a full-out war to satisfy your lust for revenge.”

Sofia takes a breath and pushes some bacon on her plate before carefully choosing her words. "I know all about this world,” she says slowly, “but I despise being kept out of the loop like a child who won’t understand the complicated details.”

There’s something disarmingly sincere about her that challenges my defenses. Something akin to admiration flickers within me for a split second, but I push it down quickly.

"We'll see. But please understand that not all information is mine to share.” I answer, wondering if I’m deliberately shielding her to protect her from Bello or herself. Or maybe I want to keep her all to myself.

Sofia sets her fork down and her eyes lock onto mine. "And if I decide to take matters into my own hands? What then, Rocco?"

I lean back in my chair, regarding her with frustration and longing. "Then you'd be putting yourself and this entire operation at risk. You know how Bello operates, as I do. He's not one to take threats lightly."

Sofia laughs, a short, harsh sound that doesn't contain an ounce of humor. "At this point, what have I got to lose?" She stands abruptly, her chair scraping loudly across the tiled floor.

"Everything, Sofia. You still have everything to lose," I say quietly, my words aimed at her retreating back.

Stopping in her tracks, she turns to face me again, her expression softening slightly. "Maybe so. But sitting here doing nothing isn't going to bring me any closer to what I want."

I stand and step toward her, feeling the weight of our shared predicament more acutely than ever. There’s no way to tell her that my desire to protect her stems from more than loyalty to her father. There’s little chance that she'll ever reciprocate my feelings, but I like having her here, and even if she weren’t in danger, I would probably find another reason to hold her here. "Let me handle Bello. Just give me some time to work things out."

Sofia looks up at me then, her gaze searching mine, perhaps for something resembling solace, or a promise of retribution. After a moment, she nods slowly, apparently resigned to the temporary impasse between us. “Fine,” she sighs. “I'll wait… but not forever.”

6

SOFIA

As I descend the staircase of Rocco’s elegant home, his voice interrupts my escape. "Sofia," he calls out, his tone smooth and deceptively calm.

I freeze, and slowly, I turn to face him.

Rocco stands there like a statue carved from marble—imposing and impeccably dressed—his suit tailored to accentuate the width of his shoulders and the strength of his frame. The tattoos peeking from under his cuffs speak of a past written in pain and power, marking him as a criminal king.

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