The image on the courier’s phone burned in my retinas long after he walked away. It wasn’t just a picture anymore; it was proof that Marco’s reach was closer than I had dared to imagine. He hadn’t been content to threaten from afar—he’d embedded himself into the edges of my life and had eyes everywhere. That realization should have bent me double with fear. Instead, something harder and colder snapped awake inside me.
“I’m not his pet,” I told the air, the words a small, fierce revolt. They felt ridiculous to say aloud, and yet saying them made something inside my chest rearrange. I refused to be defined by his threats or by Mrs. Romano’s scorn. If Marco wanted leverage, he would find I could be more dangerous when cornered than when I was compliant.
Liam watched me, eyes dark with worry
