The drive back to the villa was a descent into a silent, suffocating hell. Luciano’s hands were fused to the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the black leather. The scent of Julian’s burning dreams—smoke, oil, and scorched canvas—clung to our clothes like a physical weight.
The moment the heavy doors of our suite slammed shut, the silence exploded.
"You think you can just burn down a life whenever you’re angry?" I screamed, the adrenaline from the harbor finally boiling over. I didn't back away as he turned on me. "You’re not a protector, Luciano. You’re a locust. You destroy everything I touch just so there’s nothing left but you!"
"I am the only thing that should be left!" he roared, stepping into my space until I was pressed against the cold marble of the vanity. "You went
