Page 67 of Ruined By Protection
Her hazel eyes lock with mine, filled with terror.
"No one is going to hurt you," I tell her, my voice firm and steady. "Do you understand me? No one."
A tear escapes, sliding down her cheek and onto my thumb. Something inside me snaps at the contact—that single drop of her fear igniting a rage so pure it momentarily blinds me.
I brush the tear away with my thumb, gentler than I thought myself capable of being while fury burns through my veins.
"I want to leave," she whispers, her voice small but determined. "Please, Matteo. I need to get out of here now."
I drop my hands from her face and nod once to Fabio, who's been watching from a discreet distance. He immediately moves toward the exit, speaking quietly into his comm unit to alert the driver.
"Stay close to me," I tell Hazel.
We move through the gallery, weaving between clusters of people. Lucrezia falls in step beside us without a word, her usual playfulness replaced by alertness. The three of us move as one unit toward the exit, Fabio clearing a path ahead.
I scan every face we pass, every corner and doorway. My right hand stays free, ready to reach for the gun holstered under my jacket if needed. The weight of it is comforting—a guarantee that I can keep Hazel safe no matter what.
The gallery's glass doors slide open and sunlight hits us as we step outside. The Audi is waiting at the curb, engine running. Fabio opens the back door and I guide Hazel inside, then Lucrezia sliding in after her.
"Back to the estate," I tell the driver. "I'll be right behind you." I close the door and head to the Ducati.
Hazel
The car pulls away from the curb, leaving the gallery behind. I press my forehead against the cool window glass, trying to steady my breathing. Elliott is in New York. The thought makes my stomach twist into knots. The bruises on my body seem to throb in response, phantom pain from memories still too fresh.
Lucrezia sits beside me, silent for once. I can feel her eyes on me but I can't bring myself to meet her gaze. The driver navigates expertly through Manhattan traffic, the soft hum of the engine the only sound inside the luxury vehicle.
"I'm sorry," I finally whisper, still staring out the window at the blur of buildings. "I never meant to bring this chaos into your lives."
Lucrezia shifts beside me. When I finally turn to look at her I'm startled by the expression on her face. The usual sharp wit and confidence have drained away, leaving something raw and vulnerable in their place.
"It's not you," she says quietly. "It's just..." She trails off, her delicate fingers twisting in her lap. "I'm so tired of this. All of this."
"What do you mean?" I ask, genuinely confused. From what I've seen Lucrezia has everything—wealth, beauty, a family that adores her.
She lets out a bitter laugh that sounds nothing like her usual musical one. "This life. This constant... cycle." She gestures vaguely with one hand. "Do you know what the worst part is? It's not the danger or the violence or even the secrets. It's watching it happen over and over again."
Her voice cracks on the last word and I'm shocked to see tears gathering in her dark eyes. Lucrezia, who always seems so composed, so effortlessly in control, suddenly looks like she might shatter.
"What happened?" I ask softly.
She turns to look out her own window, profile sharp against the passing scenery. "Last year, something happened to me." Her voice is barely audible. "I was taken. Kidnapped by men who wanted to hurt my family."
My breath catches. "Lucrezia, I?—"
"No, please." She holds up a hand. "Let me finish or I won't be able to." She takes a deep breath. "After that, everything changed. I changed. And part of me thought—stupidly—that maybe it was just me. That my experience was... isolated."
The car stops at a red light and for a moment we're suspended in time, her confession hanging in the air between us.
"But then I started seeing it everywhere," she continues, her voice stronger now but hollow. "Women being controlled, being hurt. Not just by enemies or criminals but by the men they love too. By the men who are supposed to protect them." Her laugh is harsh, like broken glass. "I'm stuck watching it happen again and again. Women suffering under controlling, abusive bastards who think they own us."
Shame washes over me in a hot wave. Here I am, bringing my mess to her doorstep, forcing her to relive her own trauma through mine.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I shouldn't have come here. I didn't know?—"
"No." Lucrezia reaches over, her hand finding mine. Her grip is surprisingly strong. "That's not what I meant at all. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you got out."
Lucrezia's fingers tighten around mine, her eyes glazed as she stares at nothing.
