The house was too quiet after Luca left. Mia sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the neat bandages wrapped around her ribs. They itched and stung, the faint smell of antiseptic still clinging to her skin. She touched them lightly, unsure if his care had been an act of control or something else.
Maybe he wanted her healthy so she couldn't use weakness as an excuse. Maybe he wanted her strong enough to feel the weight of his cage. Either way, she didn't trust it.
The silence pressed on her ears. She needed to move. She slipped off the bed and made her way into the hall. Luca never said she couldn't walk, and she wasn't going to sit and rot in that room. Her bare feet sank into the carpet as she trailed her hand against the cold wall, moving slowly down the corridor.
Afternoon light cut through the tall windows, spilling long shapes across the polished floor. For a moment, it almost looked peaceful, like the house belonged to another life—one without locked doors and men with eyes like predators.
She reached the end of the corridor before she heard it.
"Well, look at you. All patched up."
Her body went stiff.
Viet was leaning against the wall like he'd been waiting there all along. His arms were crossed, his grin sharp, his eyes roaming over her in a way that made her skin crawl.
"What do you want?" Mia asked, forcing her voice not to shake.
He pushed off the wall, boots thudding against the wood as he moved toward her. "You've been here long enough to know I don't like being ignored."
Her throat went dry, but she kept her gaze steady. "Luca told you to leave me alone."
Viet chuckled low in his chest. "Luca tells me a lot of things. Doesn't mean I listen."
He stopped close enough that she caught the mix of cologne and cigarettes on him. His presence pressed against her like a weight.
"You think he's protecting you?" His smile flattened, voice lowering. "He's not. He's keeping you. For himself. And the thing about Luca…" Viet leaned just enough to invade her space, "…is he doesn't share."
Mia's pulse quickened. "Stay away from me."
He tilted his head, studying her like she was some puzzle he wanted to take apart piece by piece. "Say it as much as you want. I like finding out what people are really made of. Especially the ones Luca claims."
She stepped back, but his arm shot out, palm pressing against the wall beside her head. The move was casual but deliberate—trapping her without touching her.
His voice dropped, softer but sharper. "Don't worry, little dove. I'm not here to break you… not yet."
Before she could answer, footsteps echoed down the hall. Viet pulled back instantly, smirk still plastered on his face. "See you around."
Mia stayed frozen until he disappeared around the corner. Only then did she let her breath out, shaky and uneven. She realized, with a knot twisting in her stomach, that between Luca's control and Viet's games, escape wasn't just difficult—it might be impossible.
---
That Evening
Mia didn't tell anyone what happened. She didn't need to.
At dinner, she sat quietly, moving food around her plate more than eating it. Viet was two seats down, sipping wine like nothing had happened. His eyes flicked toward her now and then, that same mocking curl tugging at his lips.
Luca, seated at the head of the long table, didn't seem interested in the conversation until his gaze followed Viet's and landed on her. Something in his expression shifted—his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing.
"Viet," Luca said, voice calm but edged.
Viet looked up lazily. "Hmm?"
"You spoke to her today."
Viet gave a shrug, tilting his glass. "I talk to a lot of people."
"You know which one I mean."
Mia's hand froze on her fork. The air between them grew heavy, thick with tension.
Viet's smile widened, slow and deliberate. "What's the matter, brother? Afraid she'll like me better?"
The table fell into silence. No clinking cutlery, no nervous chatter. Just the two of them staring each other down.
Luca didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "Stay away from her."
Viet leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his grin almost taunting. "You keep saying that. Makes me think you're hiding something. Or someone."
Luca's chair scraped back against the floor, sharp in the silence. He rose and crossed the distance in two strides. Viet didn't flinch, but Mia saw his hand tighten slightly around the stem of his glass.
Luca stopped just short of him, his voice low but deadly. "Breathe on her again, and I'll make sure no one finds your pieces."
Viet's smirk didn't fade, but his eyes flickered with something—maybe respect, maybe calculation. "Noted."
Luca stared at him a beat longer before straightening. He didn't return to his seat immediately. Instead, he glanced at Mia. His expression wasn't comforting. It was possession, carved sharp across his face.
She looked away, heart hammering. Viet wasn't the only danger here.
---
The Next Morning
The click of the lock woke her.
Mia sat up, ribs throbbing with dull pain as Luca entered. The morning light outlined his sharp figure, his suit pressed and dark. In his hand was a white box.
Her stomach twisted when she saw the red cross printed on it.
"Get up," he said.
She hesitated. "Why—"
"Now." His tone cut through her words like a blade.
She swung her legs over the bed, watching as he set the first aid kit on the nightstand and knelt in front of her.
"You should have told me you were bleeding," he said, his eyes scanning her face. His voice was steady, but there was no warmth in it.
"I'm fine," she lied.
"You're not." He snapped the kit open, pulling out antiseptic and gauze. "And you're not going to walk around my house looking like a beaten stray."
Her fingers twisted in her shirt. "I don't need—"
"Shirt. Off."
Her breath caught. "What?"
His eyes hardened. "Do it. Or I will."
Her throat tightened. Slowly, trembling, she pulled the loose T-shirt over her head, leaving only the thin tank top beneath. The air hit her skin cold, her bruises exposed.
Luca's gaze lingered, unreadable. His jaw ticked, but he said nothing. Instead, he soaked a cotton pad in antiseptic and pressed it to her side.
The sting made her hiss.
"Hold still," he ordered, one hand firm on her shoulder to keep her from pulling away.
"You could warn me," she muttered, her voice shaking.
"I could," he said evenly, "but then you'd flinch more."
The room fell quiet except for the sound of her unsteady breathing and his controlled movements.
"Viet spoke to you yesterday," he said suddenly.
She froze. "…Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing important."
Luca didn't buy it. His grip tightened slightly. "You're not his to talk to. You're not anyone's. Except mine."
The words landed heavy. She tried to look away, but he caught her chin between his fingers, forcing her eyes back to his.
"I mean it, Mia."
When he finally let go, he finished wrapping the gauze with quick precision. He closed the kit, stood, and adjusted his cuff like the moment hadn't happened at all.
"Get dressed," he said, moving to the door. "And stay away from Viet. If I see him near you again, I won't be calm next time."
The lock clicked behind him, leaving her on the bed with the bandages tight around her ribs. She felt patched up, yes. But not safe. Not free.