I didn’t touch the damn phone.
It sat on the edge of the bed like a poisoned apple—shiny, sleek, and full of false promises. He thought buying me the latest iPhone would shut me up, make me feel normal. As if I could scroll through i********: or text a friend and forget that I was being kept like some kind of… secret.
I turned to him, arms crossed so tightly they ached. “I’m not staying here.”
Dario didn’t even blink. He leaned back against the wall, arms folded, watching me like I was something interesting on TV. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m not your prisoner.”
“Isla,” he said calmly, “you saw something you shouldn’t have. That changes everything.”
“I didn’t ask to see it! I didn’t ask to be dragged into your—your mobster soap opera or whatever this is.”
He raised a brow, amus
