Marcello’s POV
She flinched when I entered. Like my shadow alone was poison.
I shut the door behind me and said nothing at first. Just stood there, staring at the girl who haunted my nights and defied me by day.
“Lyra,” I said softly, taking a step toward her.
She shrank back immediately, pressing herself into the carved headboard. “Don’t touch me.”
I paused. My hands lifted instinctively—open, calm, as if that would undo what she’d just lived through.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said.
“You already did,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Why are you like this?”
I felt something coil inside me. Something old and cold.
“You belong to me,” I said, slowly, carefully. “No one else gets to speak into your life. Especially not her.”
She blinked, her lips trembling. “Her. You mean R
