The air in the alley grew razor-sharp, every shadow trembling beneath the weight of Alessandro De Luca's presence.
"Touch her again," he repeated, his voice a blade slicing through the night, "and I will carve the lesson into your bones."
The thug gripping Elena's arm let go so fast she nearly stumbled. The other two exchanged a look, their earlier arrogance dissolving into fear.
Alessandro moved forward, unhurried, his tailored black coat whispering against the cobblestones. He didn't need to raise a weapon—his presence alone was enough to suffocate them. Behind him, his men, Luca and Dayce, advanced silently, their eyes promising bloodshed.
The lead thug swallowed hard. "W-We didn't mean nothing, boss. Just having some fun."
"Fun?" Alessandro's dark eyes flicked toward Elena, her trembling form pressed against the wall, then back to the men. His jaw tightened. "You think terrorizing a woman is fun?"
The man stammered, taking a step back. "We—we didn't know she was yours."
Elena's breath caught at the words. Yours. The claim burned in her chest, confusing her, frightening her, stirring something she didn't want to name.
Alessandro's lip curled, a dangerous half-smile. "You should be more careful about who you touch in this city."
He raised his hand slightly, a signal.
In an instant, Dayce and Luca lunged. The thugs were disarmed, slammed against the walls, their cries cut off by the brutal efficiency of Alessandro's men.
Elena squeezed her eyes shut at the sounds—the thud of fists, the grunt of pain, the muffled curses. When she dared to open them again, the three men lay on the ground groaning, broken shells of their former bravado.
Alessandro barely looked at them. He extended his hand toward Elena.
Her pulse hammered as she stared at it, hesitation choking her. But something in his gaze—unyielding yet strangely protective—compelled her. She placed her trembling hand in his.
The warmth of his touch startled her. Strong. Steady. Unshakable.
"Come," he said, pulling her gently forward.
They walked out of the alley, leaving the thugs writhing in pain. The city lights spilled across them as if reclaiming her from the darkness.
---
Silence stretched between them until Elena finally found her voice. "You…you didn't have to do that."
Alessandro glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Yes, I did."
Her breath caught again. His certainty disarmed her more than his men had disarmed the thugs.
"Why?" she whispered.
He stopped, turning to face her fully. For a moment, the night around them stilled. His gaze locked with hers, dark and intense, a storm threatening to pull her under.
"Because no one touches what is under my protection."
Her heart skipped a beat. The words were a promise and a warning all at once. She wanted to protest—she wasn't his, didn't belong to him—but her voice betrayed her.
All she could do was look away, her thoughts spiraling.
---
Alessandro escorted her to her apartment building. Before leaving, he leaned closer, his presence overwhelming her senses.
"You'll be safe tonight," he murmured. "But, Elena…"
She froze at the sound of her name on his lips.
"…the world has sharp eyes. And not all who are watching will be as merciful as I am."
A shiver ran down her spine.
Then, without another word, he disappeared into the night, his men melting into the shadows with him.
---
Across the street, hidden in the darkness, another pair of eyes watched the exchange. A rival mafia operative lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"So, De Luca's got himself a weakness," he muttered with a grin. "Interesting."
The spark of the cigarette burned like the beginning of a war.