Page 37 of Bound to the Enforcer

He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

"This," I clarify, gesturing to the apartment. "The constant moving, the safe houses. You don't even hesitate. It's like second nature to you."

Alessio's expression shifts, a flicker of something I can't place crossing his face before he looks away. "You learn how to survive in this world. That's all."

There is something more that I can see swimming in his eyes. I know I shouldn't pry, but there is this deep urge to want to get to know him more. I want to see the man behind the brooding and cold exterior.

"Who were you before all of this?" I implore.

For a moment, I think he's going to ignore me. But then he turns, leaning back against the window ledge.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does to me," I insist. "I want to understand you, Alessio."

He shakes his head, a humorless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You don't want to know, Sophia."

"Yes, I do," I say, stepping closer. "You act like this version of you is all there's ever been, but it's not, is it? What happened to you?"

His eyes darken, his gaze locking onto mine. "I've done things I'm not proud of. Things you wouldn't want to hear about. Things that could make you look at me like I'm a monster."

"I'm not afraid of the truth," I reply firmly. "I think I've proved that time and time again these past few weeks."

The corner of his mouth lifts, but there's no warmth in it. "Everyone says that until they hear it."

I open my mouth to argue, but he pushes off the window and moves past me, breaking whatever moment was starting to form. "Get some rest," he says, quieter now but final. "We've got work to do in the morning."

I watch him disappear into the other room, my chest tightening with frustration and something else I can't name. He's hiding pieces of himself, I know it. Pieces I want to see, to understand.

And for the first time, I wonder if those pieces might explain why he's so determined to keep me at arm's length.

I shouldn't follow him. I tell myself that as I stand in the middle of my room, staring at the empty hallway outside. But the way Alessio looked at me tonight—the flicker of something deeper, something raw—has been gnawing at me, pulling me like gravity.

I can't let it go.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I step into the hallway. The apartment is dim, the faint hum of the city filtering in through the windows. His door is open just enough to let me see him sitting on the edge of the bed. His back is to me, his elbows on his knees, his head low like he's carrying the weight of the world.

"Alessio."

His shoulders stiffen slightly, but he doesn't turn around. "You should go to sleep, Sophia."

"I want to talk," I say quietly, taking another step closer.

He shakes his head, a soft, bitter laugh escaping his lips. "There's nothing to talk about."

"There's everything to talk about." I pause, trying to keep firm in my stance. "You keep shutting me out. Pushing me away. I'm trying to understand you, Alessio. Why won't you let me?"

He finally turns his head, just enough that I can see the sharp angle of his jaw and the faint shadow under his eyes. "Because understanding me doesn't change anything," he says. "It won't change what I've done. Or what I am. And you knowing could change you."

"What are you?" I challenge softly, stepping around the bed so I can see him fully.

His eyes lift to mine, and for a second, I see something behind them—a darkness that wasn't there before. A memory. A ghost.

"A product of this life," he says finally. "It's not something I chose, Sophia. You need to understand that."

"Tell me."

He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw tight, as if he's weighing whether or not to say the words. Finally, he leans back, his hands resting on his thighs, and his eyes drop to the floor.

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