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I don’t know why I said it. Maybe because I’m tired of pretending we don’t both know what this is. Maybe because I need to hear him deny it.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he turns his head, his dark gaze locking onto mine, unreadable.

"I told you I’d protect you, Sofia." His voice is a murmur. "But you’ve made it impossible."

I stiffen.

"If you can’t trust me to keep you safe, then maybe this can’t work," he says in a cool, distant tone. "I can’t have you jeopardizing everything I’ve worked for, everything the family stands for."

The words land like a bullet to the chest.

Ishouldhave seen this coming.

But somehow, it still feels like the ground beneath me is crumbling.

I press my lips together, forcing down the ache rising in my throat. "So that’s it?" My voice is quiet, hollow. "You’re giving me an ultimatum? Fall in line, or we’re done?"

He exhales slowly, his grip on the wheel tightening.

"I’m saying," he murmurs, "that if you keep doing this—if you keep running into the fire instead of letting me pull you out—one day, I might not be fast enough."

Something shatters inside me.

Because despite the anger, despite the frustration burning between us…that’s fear in his voice.

Not for himself.

For me.

I turn away, pressing my fingers against my temple, willing the pressure in my chest to ease.

I don’t know what to say to that.

So I say nothing at all.

The rest of the drive is silent.

The car rolls to a stop in front of my building, the engine still purring like a restless animal. The streetlights cast long shadows over the pavement, stretching toward the sky like silent witnesses to the wreckage between us.

I reach for the door handle, my fingers curling around the cool metal, but I don’t move. Not yet.

Because once I step out of this car, everything changes.

Once I walk away, I don’t know if Marco will follow.

The weight of that realization sits heavy on my chest, pressing against my ribs, but I push it down. I have to.

Marco doesn’t say anything. He just grips the steering wheel, his jaw locked so tight I can hear the grinding of his teeth. The silence between us is thick, suffocating, filled with all the things we don’t know how to say.

Finally, I force myself to speak, even though my throat feels like it’s lined with glass. "You were right," I whisper.

His fingers flex on the wheel. His gaze stays fixed ahead, refusing to meet mine.

"But I can't stop now," I continue, voice barely more than a breath. "I have to finish what I started, even if it means doing it alone."

Marco inhales sharply, like my words are a physical blow.