The tray sat on the floor, empty except for a bone and the faint scent of broth that still lingered in the air. Mia sat at the edge of the massive bed, her knees tucked to her chest, the blanket pulled so tightly around her shoulders it might as well have been armor. Her stomach was full, but it didn't make her feel safe. If anything, the food reminded her that she hadn't chosen it — nothing about her life in this place was hers to choose.
The mansion was too quiet. The kind of silence that didn't comfort, only pressed down until her ears rang. Every little creak in the floorboards, every groan of the old walls, made her flinch. She had no idea what time it was anymore; the windows were heavy with curtains, and the clocks — if there were any — were hidden. Here, hours and minutes blurred into one long stretch of dread.
The door handle turned.
Her body stiffened instantly.
The heavy door swung open, and Luca appeared, filling the frame like a shadow that had swallowed the hall behind him. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes swept the room until they landed on her.
"Good," he said, his voice low, smooth, unreadable. "You ate."
Mia didn't answer. She pulled the blanket tighter, her chin barely peeking over the edge of the fabric.
Luca closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock carrying more weight than any slam could. He walked toward her, slow, deliberate, like he already knew she had nowhere to run.
"You think I'd poison you?" His tone carried amusement, though his smile was more of a warning than anything kind. "If I wanted you dead, piccola, you wouldn't be sitting here breathing."
Mia swallowed hard. Her eyes stayed on the floor. "Then why… why am I here?" Her voice cracked in the middle, betraying her fear.
Luca crouched in front of her so their eyes met. His were sharp, dark, too intense to look at for long, but too dangerous to ignore.
"Because I like having you where I can see you," he said simply. Then, after a pause, his mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "And because of your song. That little voice of yours. It's stuck in my head, and I hate it."
Her heart skipped. That song again. She wished she could pull it back, unsing it, pretend it had never happened.
Luca leaned closer, his lips so near her ear that his breath made her shiver. "It's dangerous to make me feel things I don't want to feel."
Mia tensed, her fingernails digging into the blanket until her knuckles turned white.
His fingers tilted her chin up. "Trembling again," he murmured. "Fear looks good on you."
Her throat felt tight, like the air didn't want to go in. She wanted to shrink away, but he was too close, his presence pressing against her like a wall.
Then, just as suddenly, he straightened. "Sleep," he ordered, voice clipped. "You'll need your strength."
He turned, hand already on the door, but glanced back once more. His smirk was sharp this time, almost mocking. "And Mia… don't sing again. Unless you're ready to pay for haunting me."
The door closed, the lock sliding into place again. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. She stayed sitting up, heart racing, unable to decide if she should be relieved he hadn't touched her — or terrified of what might come next.
---
Time slipped away again. It might have been an hour. It might have been five minutes. She lost track. Lying on the bed, curled beneath the blanket, Mia stared into the dark and tried to convince herself she was alone. But her body refused to relax. Every part of her stayed tense, braced for the sound of footsteps.
And then they came.
Slow. Steady. Unhurried.
Her breath caught.
The lock turned.
The door opened.
Luca stepped inside. This time he looked different — his shirt hung open at the chest, hair slightly mussed, like he'd been drinking or pacing the halls. But his eyes… his eyes were sharper, darker, carrying something that twisted her stomach with fear.
"Couldn't sleep," he said casually, as if it was the middle of a normal night and she wasn't his prisoner. "You've been on my mind."
Mia sat up quickly, clutching the blanket tighter. "P-please… don't—"
The corner of his mouth lifted, almost amused. "You think I'm here to hurt you? Piccola, I don't have to touch you to make you lose your breath."
He moved closer, each step measured, until his shadow fell across the bed. His hand reached for the blanket, tugging just enough to uncover her trembling fingers.
"You look so innocent," he said softly, though there was no kindness in it. "Too innocent… and I hate it."
Her voice shook. "Then why keep me here?"
He chuckled low, a sound that didn't belong to laughter but something darker. "Because innocence doesn't last forever. And I like the thought of being the one to take it away."
Her chest tightened, fear flooding every vein.
Luca leaned in, close enough for his lips to almost brush her ear. "Relax, bella. I told you, I'm not touching you tonight." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "But I want you to remember this. Every time you close your eyes, I'll be there. In your thoughts. In your fears. Until you can't tell if you hate me… or if you need me."
He straightened slowly, his fingers grazing through her hair as if testing her reaction, before pulling back.
"Sweet dreams, Mia."
He left without waiting for a reply. The lock clicked once more, sealing her in.
The silence that followed wasn't silence at all. It was full of his voice, his words, his shadow still hanging over her like smoke that refused to clear.
Mia sat motionless, the blanket still clutched to her chest. Sleep was impossible. How could she close her eyes now, when he had promised to be there waiting?
For the first time since she'd been dragged into this house, she realized something far worse than fear itself: she was starting to believe him.