CHAPTER 8: THE PAST DOESN'T STAY BURIED
1210 Words
SERAPHINA’S POV
I tried to convince myself that I was imagining things again.
That the unease curling in my stomach was nothing more than nerves, that Alessio’s presence had simply unsettled me because I allowed it to. Rome had a way of amplifying emotions, of turning quiet thoughts into loud ones. That was all this was. A city effect. A coincidence.
I had learned long ago that denial was easier than fear.
But fear has a way of sharpening reality.
The day started like any other. Morning light slipped through the curtains, soft and forgiving, and Aurora moved around the apartment humming as she got ready for work. I watched her from the kitchen doorway, wondering how someone so open could exist so close to danger without ever feeling it.
“Do you want breakfast,” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
She frowned slightly. “You haven’t been sleeping.”
I shrugged. “New city.”
She accepted that easily, because Aurora always accepted things easily. I envied her for it.
At the café, the air felt heavier. Not hostile, just alert. Conversations were quieter, laughter more restrained. I noticed how often people glanced toward the door, how the staff straightened whenever footsteps approached.
Alessio did not come in.
That should have relieved me. Instead I felt the absence like a missing sound, something my body expected and didn’t receive. I hated that realization. Hated that my awareness bent toward him even when he wasn’t there.
Midway through my shift, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Unknown number.
My pulse spiked instantly.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary, every instinct screaming caution. Slowly I stepped into the back room and answered.
“Hello”
Silence.
Then breathing.
My blood went cold.
I hung up immediately, hands trembling. For a moment I stood frozen, memories crashing into me without warning. New Jersey streets at night. A shadow at my back. The feeling of being cornered without being touched.
I pressed my palm to the counter, grounding myself.
It was nothing, I told myself. Wrong number. A prank. Rome was full of strangers.
The phone buzzed again.
Same number.
I didn’t answer this time. I blocked it, forcing my breath to steady. When I returned to the front, Aurora noticed my expression instantly.
“What happened”
“Nothing,” I lied. “Just a headache.”
She studied me, unconvinced but unwilling to press. The rest of the shift passed in a blur. I kept scanning the street through the windows, searching for familiarity where none should exist.
When we closed, Aurora insisted on stopping for groceries. I followed her through the market, hyperaware of every sound, every movement. A man brushed past me, and I flinched before I could stop myself.
Aurora caught it.
“Okay,” she said softly. “That’s not nothing.”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “I just need air.”
Outside, dusk had settled, the sky streaked with fading light. The street felt too open, too exposed. As we walked, my phone vibrated again.
Blocked number.
My chest tightened.
Aurora noticed the tension in my grip on my bag. “Seraphina”
“I think someone followed me here,” I said quietly.
She stopped instantly. “What”
“I don’t know who,” I continued. “But it feels familiar.”
That was the part I didn’t want to admit.
Aurora’s face hardened in a way I had never seen before. She reached for her phone, fingers moving quickly.
“What are you doing,” I asked.
“Calling my brother.”
Fear flared. “No. Don’t.”
She paused, eyes locking with mine. “You don’t get to protect me by hurting yourself.”
Before I could argue, she had already sent the message.
He arrived faster than I expected.
The black car pulled up silently, engine barely audible. Alessio stepped out, his expression unreadable, but his eyes went straight to me, scanning, assessing, confirming I was intact.
“What happened,” he asked.
Aurora explained quickly, efficiently. I watched his jaw tighten with every word. When she finished, he turned to me.
“Who”
“I don’t know,” I said. “The number was blocked.”
He held out his hand. “Your phone.”
I hesitated, then gave it to him. He checked it briefly, thumb moving with practiced ease.
“This isn’t random,” he said.
My stomach dropped. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Aurora looked between us. “What aren’t you saying”
Alessio met her gaze. “I’ll handle it.”
“No,” I said sharply. “You don’t get to decide that.”
His eyes returned to me, dark and steady. “You don’t understand the kind of men who do things like this.”
“And you think I don’t,” I shot back.
Something shifted in his expression then, something like realization. “You’ve dealt with this before.”
I didn’t answer.
Silence fell, heavy and brittle.
“Get in the car,” he said finally.
“I’m not a child.”
“This is not a request.”
Aurora touched my arm. “Please.”
I hesitated, then nodded. The ride was quiet, tension filling the space between us. Alessio’s phone rang twice. He ignored it both times.
At the apartment, he insisted on checking every room, every window, every lock. His movements were precise, controlled, but beneath it I sensed fury barely contained.
“Who hurt you,” he asked quietly.
I froze.
“That’s none of your business.”
“It became my business the moment someone decided you were worth following.”
I laughed bitterly. “You think protection fixes things”
“No,” he said. “I think it prevents them from happening again.”
That was when it hit me.
He wasn’t reacting. He had been expecting this.
“You already knew,” I said slowly.
His silence confirmed it.
“You’ve been watching me,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
The admission felt like a slap.
“I didn’t give you permission.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Anger surged, sharp and sudden. “You don’t own me.”
His gaze darkened. “I know.”
“Then stop acting like you do.”
He stepped closer, voice low. “You are standing in a world you do not see yet, Seraphina. And someone from your past has crossed into it.”
My breath hitched. “How do you know”
“Because I made sure to find out.”
Fear and relief twisted together, impossible to separate.
“I ran for a reason,” I said.
“And you were found.”
The words settled between us like a verdict.
That night, sleep was impossible. I lay awake replaying everything, the call, the car, his admission. The safety he offered felt too sharp, too costly.
But when I looked out the window and saw the familiar car parked below, engine silent, presence constant, I felt something else too.
Not comfort.
Not peace.
Something far more dangerous.
I felt protected.
And I wasn’t sure how to walk away from that.
- Writer
