BENEATH THE MASK

Threads Unraveling

The following day brought with it a strange, suffocating sense of unease. I had spent most of the night pacing my room, my thoughts spiraling between Marcelo’s words and Ethan’s sudden withdrawal. Ethan had left without a word, his expression tight with anger, and every attempt I had made to reach out had been met with silence.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

As I moved through the house, overseeing the daily operations and keeping my focus on the task at hand, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything around me was slowly unraveling. The men I trusted moved with a nervous energy, their eyes darting between one another, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I had been trained to read people, to understand their motivations and the things they tried to hide. And right now, my instincts were screaming at me that Ethan was hiding something.

But what?

I clenched my fists at my sides, the frustration bubbling up inside me. I didn’t want to believe that Ethan was capable of betrayal. But the way he had stormed out last night, the anger in his eyes, the jealousy when he saw Marcelo leaving my room—it all pointed to something deeper.

Something I couldn’t ignore.

I pushed the thought away, determined to focus on the matter at hand. Marcelo’s message still weighed heavy on my mind, the ominous words a reminder that the threat to my family was far from over. And yet, Ethan’s absence gnawed at me, pulling my attention back to him even when I didn’t want it to.

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Later that afternoon, I found Ethan in the garage, leaning against one of the cars. His posture was tense, his expression unreadable as he looked up at me. There was a moment of silence between us, thick with tension and unspoken words, and for a second, I wasn’t sure if I should even confront him.

But I had to. I had to know.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ethan looked away, his jaw tight. “I’ve been busy.”

I stepped closer, the tension between us growing with each step. “Busy with what?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ground as if he were searching for the right words. But the hesitation in his silence told me everything I needed to know. He was hiding something, and it wasn’t just about Marcelo.

“Ethan,” I said quietly, my voice soft but firm. “Talk to me.”

He let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to face me. His eyes were dark, filled with frustration and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice strained. “But this isn’t easy, Alex.”

I frowned, stepping even closer. “What isn’t easy?”

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the way he moved, the tension radiating off him in waves. “This… all of this. I didn’t expect things to get so complicated.”

My chest tightened, the sense of unease growing stronger. “Complicated how?”

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and for the first time, I saw the vulnerability in his eyes. It was brief, just a flicker, but it was enough to make my heart race.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice quiet. “I didn’t mean for us to get… close.”

I felt a pang of hurt, but I pushed it aside, keeping my voice steady. “You regret it?”

Ethan shook his head, his expression softening. “No. I don’t regret it. But things are different now. And I… I don’t know how to handle it.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “What are you trying to say?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor again. “I’m saying I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Was he leaving? Was he walking away from everything we had built, everything we had fought for?

But then I remembered the way he had looked at me the night Marcelo left my room. The jealousy, the anger—it hadn’t just been about Marcelo. It had been about something deeper, something that went beyond the rivalry between our families.

And suddenly, it clicked.

“You’re hiding something,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “Aren’t you?”

Ethan stiffened, his eyes snapping up to meet mine. “What?”

“You’ve been distant. Ever since last night, you’ve been… different. And I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not telling me everything.”

Ethan’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he took a step back. “Alex, I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” I interrupted, my heart pounding in my chest. “If there’s something I need to know, tell me. Now.”

For a moment, Ethan didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, the frustration rolling off him in waves. I could see the battle in his eyes, the way he was struggling to keep whatever secret he was holding onto.

But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly. “I’m not lying to you.”

I narrowed my eyes, not willing to let it go. “Then what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

Ethan hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the door as if he were looking for an escape. But there was nowhere to run. Not anymore.

“I can’t tell you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

The admission sent a shockwave of anger and hurt crashing over me. I had trusted him—let him in—and now he was keeping something from me. Something important.

“Why not?” I thought you trust me.