The morning broke with a reluctant sun, the kind that painted the city in muted gold but did nothing to warm the air inside Gabe's penthouse.
Lottie sat at the edge of the sofa, sketchbook balanced on her knees. Her pencil moved in faint, uncertain lines, more habit than inspiration. She hadn't drawn in weeks, not since Daniel's funeral, but today her hands itched for something familiar, something hers.
The pages bore half-finished faces-her brother's, half-remembered strangers, even the suggestion of Gabe's profile traced in quick strokes. She caught herself shading the curve of his jaw and snapped the book closed, heat rushing to her cheeks.
She hated that he was bleeding into her world.
"You draw," Gabe's voice cut through the quiet.
She startled, turning to find him standing by the kitchen counter, a glass of water in his hand. His dark hair was damp from his shower, sleeves rolled, tie discarded. He looked less like the feared Cavelli heir and more like a man caught between sleepless nights.
"Sometimes," she muttered, sliding the sketchbook onto the cushion beside her.
His gaze lingered on it, unreadable. "Your brother used to. He wasn't half bad."
The mention of Daniel made her chest ache. "He was better than me. Everything came easy to him."
Gabe leaned against the counter, sipping his water slowly. "Not everything."
Their eyes locked, the weight of unsaid things pressing between them. She looked away first, rising to her feet. "I need air."
His jaw tightened. "Too risky."
"Then take me with you," she shot back. "I can't stay locked in here like some caged pet."
For a moment, silence stretched. Then he exhaled slowly, conceding. "One hour. With me and three guards. No arguments."
Relief mixed with dread in her chest. She wasn't sure if she wanted freedom more than she feared what lurked outside.
They left through the private garage beneath the building, the sleek black SUV idling under fluorescent lights. Marco sat behind the wheel, two more men in a trailing car. Gabe guided her into the back seat with a hand at the small of her back-steady, protective, but possessive enough to make her bristle.
The city unfolded outside, familiar streets blurred by tinted glass. People bustled on sidewalks, carrying bags, laughing into phones, sipping coffee from paper cups. Ordinary life. She pressed her hand against the window, aching for that simplicity.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Somewhere quiet," Gabe said. "You'll have air. Nothing more."
His tone made it clear she shouldn't push. Still, she crossed her arms, staring stubbornly out the window.
They stopped near a riverside park, secluded enough to avoid crowds but open enough that Gabe's men could watch every angle. He stepped out first, scanning the area before motioning for her to follow.
The air smelled faintly of damp earth and autumn leaves. Lottie inhaled deeply, savoring the simple freedom of open space. She walked a few paces ahead, eyes fixed on the water glinting beneath the pale sun.
For a moment, it felt almost normal. Almost.
Then Gabe joined her, his presence grounding but intrusive. "Stay close."
"I'm not a child," she said, though she didn't step away.
"No. You're a target," he replied, his voice edged with iron.
She turned to him, frustration bubbling. "And whose fault is that? Yours? My brother's? Theirs? Because I sure as hell didn't choose this life."
His jaw clenched, but his eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "No one chooses it, Lottie. It chooses you. And once it does, there's no way out."
The words chilled her. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the truth in his tone silenced her.
The attack came without warning.
One moment, the river lapped gently at the shore. The next, a black sedan screeched to a halt near the path. Doors flew open, and armed men spilled out, faces masked, guns flashing in the sun.
"Down!" Gabe barked, grabbing her arm and yanking her behind him.
Shots cracked through the air, shattering the fragile calm. Marco and the guards moved instantly, returning fire with precision. People screamed in the distance, scattering like startled birds.
Lottie's heart slammed against her ribs. Gabe's body was a wall in front of her, shielding her as bullets pinged against concrete. The air reeked of gunpowder and smoke.
"Stay behind me!" he growled, firing a shot that dropped one of the masked men.
She crouched low, hands trembling, ears ringing with every gunshot. Her mind screamed to run, but her body wouldn't obey. Fear rooted her to the spot.
Gabe moved with terrifying control, every motion calculated, lethal. Another man fell, then another. But there were too many.
"Go!" Marco shouted, motioning toward the SUV.
Gabe hauled her to her feet, half-dragging her as he fired one-handed. They sprinted toward the vehicle, bullets chasing them. A shot tore through the air so close she felt the heat brush her cheek.
Then Gabe shoved her into the back seat, slamming the door shut just as another volley rattled against the armored glass. He dove in beside her, shouting to Marco.
"Drive!"
The SUV lurched forward, tires screeching. The trailing car intercepted the attackers, buying them precious seconds. Lottie clung to the seatbelt, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Gabe's arm was braced protectively across her as the city blurred by in a haze of panic and gunfire.
They didn't slow until they were blocks away, hidden in the maze of downtown streets.
Lottie's hands still shook as she turned to Gabe. "They tried to kill us. They—" Her voice broke. "They wanted me."
He caught her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. His palms were warm, steady, grounding.
"They failed," he said firmly. "Because I won't let them touch you."
Her chest heaved, tears burning her eyes. "But how long until they succeed? How long until your walls crack?"
His eyes darkened, fierce. "Then I'll build higher walls. Stronger ones. I'll bleed if I have to. But they will never take you, Lottie. Not while I'm breathing."
The intensity of his vow stole her breath. She searched his face, seeing not just the mafia heir but the man beneath—the one carrying scars and burdens too heavy for one soul.
Her throat tightened. She hated him for dragging her into this world. She hated him for making promises she didn't believe could be kept.
But more than anything, she hated the part of herself that wanted to believe him.
Back in the penthouse, silence fell heavy. Lottie sat curled on the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The city glittered mockingly below, indifferent to her terror.
She kept replaying the ambush—the screech of tires, the muzzle flashes, the way Gabe had stood between her and death without hesitation.
He had killed for her.
The thought both sickened and steadied her.
Gabe stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and sharp as he issued orders. Marco lingered nearby, face grim.
When Gabe finally hung up, he turned to her. His tie was gone, shirt stained faintly at the cuff where blood—someone else's blood—had spattered.
"You see now," he said, his voice quieter but no less unyielding. "Why you can't leave. Why you can't fight me on this."
Her lips trembled. "I didn't ask for you to save me."
"No," he said, stepping closer, his gaze locking on hers. "But I will. Again and again. Until ruin takes us both if it has to."
Something in his tone—raw, uncompromising—sent a shiver through her. The walls around her defiance cracked, just a little.
And in the silence that followed, Lottie realized the truth she had been running from: she was no longer outside this world, no longer a bystander. She was in it. Bound to Gabe Cavelli, whether by fear, fate, or something far more dangerous.
And there was no way back.