Page 47 of Ruined By Capture

I freeze, my breath caught in my throat. The threat shouldn't send that strange ripple down my spine, but it does.

CHAPTER 16

The tension between us curdles in the darkness. I wait for her to flinch, to back down.

"That doesn't mean I'm wrong," she says, her voice steady despite the slight tremor I detect beneath it. "My boyfriend in London—James—he fucked around too."

I don't respond, just watch her silhouette as her tone shifts, becomes rawer.

"He claimed he loved me." She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Then I caught him with another woman. And even after I found out, he kept chasing me with all these filthy excuses about how he didn't want to hurt me, how it was a mistake."

The image of some prick hurting her makes something dark and violent stir in my chest.

"So yes, I had a boyfriend." I have to strain to catch her whisper. "That's what I meant when I said I was heartbroken when I left London."

So the princess has been betrayed before. It explains the walls she's built, the suspicion behind her eyes even when she's vulnerable.

I roll my shoulder, feeling the pull of the fresh bandage. The darkness between us feels suddenly heavier than the gun at my back.

"I had someone once," I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. "Violet."

Melania shifts on her mattress, her silhouette turning toward me. "What happened?"

"She left." I stare at the ceiling, tracking the exposed pipes with my eyes.

"Why did she leave?"

"She saw me covered in blood one night. Not mine." The memory surfaces—Violet's face draining of color, her hand covering her mouth, her blue eyes wide with horror. "What woman could love a killer?"

The warehouse creaks around us, the sound filling the silence between my words.

"You were together long?" Melania asks, her voice softer than I've heard it before.

"Six months." I run my thumb along my bottom lip, remembering. "Long enough to start thinking about things I had no business considering."

"Like what?"

I don't answer that. Some wounds shouldn't be reopened.

"She belongs to another life," I say instead. "Years ago."

Melania's quiet for a moment. "Did you love her?"

The question hangs between us. I consider lying but what's the point? We're fugitives in a warehouse with killers hunting us. Truth seems like the smallest risk.

"I thought I did." I shift, the mattress springs protesting beneath me. "Turns out I just loved the idea of being someone else. Someone who could have that life."

"And now?"

"Now I know better." My voice hardens. "This is who I am. No point pretending otherwise."

The silence stretches between us, filled with all the things neither of us is saying. I can almost hear her thinking, processing this glimpse behind my wall.

"Get some sleep, Melania," I say finally. "Tomorrow will be worse than today."

I turn away from her, facing the wall. This conversation has already gone further than it should have. Sharing war stories with her. But something about the darkness, about nearly dying together, makes the usual rules feel distant.

"Goodnight, Alessio," she says softly, the mattress squeaking as she turns away too.

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