The night air was cold, biting against my skin as I stood just outside the mansion, my breath coming in shallow bursts. I had no idea how long I could sneak around without being caught.
I took a deep breath and stepped farther into the darkness, away from the safety of the walls that confined me, but they still loomed behind me like giants. I walked down the garden path, my steps growing quicker, more desperate with each step.
My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a mess of emotions I couldn't unravel. Every step farther away from the house was a small rebellion, a desperate attempt to break free, even if just for a few minutes.
I could still feel Bruno's words hanging in the air like chains around my neck: "You'll come to understand, in time."
The audacity of him, thinking I'd ever come to accept this life. It was enough to make my blood boil, but at the same time, there was a heaviness that sat in my chest like a weight I couldn't shake.
I kept walking, my hands stuffed into the pockets of my coat, the cold biting at my fingertips. The path ahead led to the gates that kept Bruno's world separate from the rest of reality, but I feared Bruno would find me. He always found me.
It was the hopelessness that scared me the most, the realization that no matter where I ran, no matter how hard I tried, I would never be free. He had more control over me than I wanted to admit, and that terrified me.
I stopped at the edge of the garden, staring out at the distant city lights. They twinkled in the distance, so far away yet so close.
I had always been strong, always fought for my independence. But Bruno… He had a way of breaking people down, a way of making you feel like fighting back was futile.
I leaned against a stone pillar, the cold seeping through my coat, and closed my eyes.
What was I even doing here? How had my life spiraled so far out of control? The girl I used to be, the girl who had dreams, who believed in something better, she felt like a stranger now. I barely recognize.
Footsteps behind me brought me out from my thoughts.
I turned sharply, my heart pounding in my chest, fear wrapping itself around me like a vice. For a second, I thought it was Bruno. I expected to see him standing there, his dark eyes burning with that same intensity, ready to drag me back into his world, to remind me that I belonged to him.
But it wasn't Bruno.
It was Marco.
He was one of Bruno's men, always lurking in the background, watching, waiting. He was quieter than the others, more calculating. But that didn't make him any less dangerous.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, his voice low but carrying that edge of authority I had come to despise.
"I needed air," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to act as if I wasn't terrified he would drag me back inside. "I just needed a moment."
Marco's eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing the truth of my words.
"You know you're not supposed to be out here alone."
The statement wasn't a question; it was a reminder. A reminder of how little freedom I truly had.
"I'm not running," I said quietly, though the desperation in my voice betrayed me. "I just needed to think."
"You can think inside," he said, taking a step closer, his gaze hard and unwavering. "It's not safe out here for you."
"Safe from what?" I snapped, the frustration bubbling up inside me. "Safe from who? You? Bruno?"
Marco's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer. Instead, he just stared at me, his silence more damning than any words he could have spoken.
"I can't breathe in there," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I can't keep pretending like this is normal. Like this is okay."
His eyes softened just slightly, but it was gone in a flash.
"It's not my place to say what's okay or not. I just follow orders."
Orders. That's all this was to them, a series of commands to keep me locked away, to ensure I stayed in Bruno's grip. They weren't people with thoughts or feelings, they were soldiers in Bruno's army, and I was the enemy they needed to keep in line.
"I don't care about your orders," I spat, taking a step closer to him, my chest heaving with the effort it took to keep my voice from cracking. "I'm not a prisoner."
Marco's expression didn't change, but there was something in his eyes, something that almost looked like pity.
"You should go back inside, Maria."
I shook my head, my hands trembling at my sides.
"I can't. Not tonight. I just need this. I need this one moment."
He stood there, watching me for what felt like an eternity, as if deciding whether to push me or let me have this small rebellion. I knew he could easily force me back inside. I had seen him do worse. But for some reason, he stayed where he was.
"You have five minutes," he said quietly, turning his back to me and walking a few steps away, giving me the space I had so desperately craved. "Then you go back in."
I let out a shaky breath, my body still trembling from the adrenaline. It wasn't much, but it was something. Five minutes of freedom. Five minutes to be alone with my thoughts before I was dragged back into that house, into that life I couldn't escape.
I turned my back to Marco, staring out at the city lights again. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I fought the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
I was so tired of this. So tired of pretending I was okay. But what choice did I have? What option was there for me? Running wouldn't save me. Fighting wouldn't change anything.
I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts, but they clung to me like a sickness. I hated him. I hated him for what he had done to me, for what he continued to do. But I couldn't deny the pull he had over me. It was maddening.
The sound of footsteps behind me startled me, and I turned quickly, my heart leaping into my throat.
But it wasn't Marco.
It was Bruno.
My blood ran cold as he stepped out of the shadows, his dark eyes locking onto mine with that same intensity that always made me feel like I was drowning.
He moved with a slow, deliberate grace, each step bringing him closer until he was standing just inches away.
"Out for some fresh air?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, but there was an edge to it, a dangerous undercurrent that made my skin prickle with fear.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.