Page 82 of Carved in Ruin

His entire body tenses. The air shifts, turning electric. “What are you saying?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Tread carefully, Mila.”

I swallow, clutching the coffee cup as if it might anchor me. “I want to leave everything behind. The past. The mafia. Even…” I falter.

“Even me?” he asks, leaning closer.

I force the words out. “Even you.”

The silence that follows feels endless. Then, he laughs. It raises every hair on my body. He stands abruptly, towering over me.

“You think I’ll just let you walk away?” He is vibrating with fury.

“I don’t need your permission,” I say. “With or without your agreement, I’m leaving.”

“Hell no.”

“I’ll run,” I burst out. “I’ll run far enough that you’ll never find me. I’ll tear myself apart if I have to. I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he growls, taking a single step forward. His presence feels like it swallows the room. “Say it, Mila. Say it so I can hear how far you’re willing to go to betray me.”

“It’s not betrayal,” I snap, stepping closer, matching his fire with my own. “It’s survival, Rafael. I can’t live like this anymore. I need space. I need my own life.”

His lip curls in a snarl. “Your life?” he repeats, his tone mocking. “Your lifeis me. There is no ‘you’ without me, Mila. Just like there is no ‘me’ without ‘you’.”

“I don’t believe that. I can’t believe that. I want something normal. A life that isn’t built on possession and revenge.”

“Normal? You want to leavethis—” he gestures wildly around him, at everything, at nothing— “for normal? For what? Some pathetic little house with a man who doesn’t even know how to touch you?”

“Maybe!” I yell. “Maybe I do! At least he’d love me, Rafael.Actually love me.Not just love to own me.”

The words slice through him, and I see it—the way his jaw clenches, his eyes darken. Before I can react, he sweeps his arm across the table, sending everything—coffee cups, plates, a vase—crashing to the floor.

I flinch but don’t move, refusing to let him see how much he shakes me.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He grabs the edge of the table and flips it with a violent roar, the wood splintering in half. “You’ve been mine since the moment you breathed your first fucking breath, Mila. You don’t get to take that back.”

“This isn’t love, Rafael! You only told me you loved me that day out of pity. I don’t want your fucking pity.”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about love. If you did, you would have realized I worship the fucking ground you walk on.”

I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. His hands fly to the buttons of his shirt, tearing them open with a vicious yank. The fabric falls from his shoulders, and I freeze.

Scars. Deep, brutal lines carved into his chest. My name. Over and over, carved in shaky, jagged letters.

My stomach drops.

“You see this?” he barks, his hand hovering over the marks. “This is you, Mila. Every year since I turned thirteen, I’ve carved you into me as a punishment for loving you. Every fucking year.” His voice is tinged with obsessive pride. “You’re in my skin. My blood. My bones. You areme, Mila. And you think you can walk away?”

I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

“This is why,” I conclude, “why you never let me touch your chest. Why you always kept it hidden.”

“You weren’t ready to see it. To see how deep you’ve ruined me.”

“You’re insane,” I insult. “You hid this from me. You didn’t even think I was worthy enough to know that you love me.”

“You think I hid this because you weren’t worthy? No, Mila. I hid it because I didn’t want you to see how much you’ve affected me. How much I yearn for you.” He rages. “But now? Now I don’t care. Let it break you. Let it consume you. Because you’ll never leave me.”

“Watch me.”

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