We both turned to see Elena frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the scene, Leonardo's grip on my arm, the blood on my lip, the shattered porcelain at our feet.
"Hannah..?" she asked uncertainly. "Is everything okay?"
Leonardo's posture shifted subtly, the predator adapting to a new variable.
"Everything's fine Elena," I said quickly, forcing a smile despite the pain. "This is an... old friend from Milan. Just a small disagreement."
"Your lip is bleeding," she stated, not moving from the doorway. Smart girl. Some animal instinct was warning her.
"Clumsy as always." I lied. "Walked into a cabinet."
Leonardo watched the exchange with clinical interest, like a scientist observing lab rats. His hand remained locked around my arm, but he'd shifted to appear less threatening.
"Perhaps your friend should come back later," he suggested, his voice smooth as silk. "We have much to discuss, don't we Hannah?"
The way he said my false name made Elena flinch. She wasn't stupid, she could feel the danger radiating from the man in the expensive suit.
"I can stay." she offered, her voice small but determined.
"No," I said firmly. "Please Elena. I'll call you later."
Her eyes darted between us, torn between friendship and fear. Finally, reluctantly, she backed toward the door.
"Promise you'll call," she insisted.
I nodded, praying she'd leave before Leonardo's patience wore thin. If she saw what he truly was, he'd kill her without hesitation.
Once the door closed behind her, Leonardo released a small sigh.
"Hmm, touching," he remarked. "You've made friends." His grip tightened. "Pack whatever you need. We're leaving."
"I'm not going anywhere with you! " I hissed
"Yes, you are. Either walking or unconscious, your choice, but we're leaving in the next five minutes."
"And if I scream?" I challenged. "If I tell everyone who you really are?"
His smile was chilling. "Then I'll start with your friend Elena. Then her family. Then every person in this pathetic town who ever showed you kindness." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "I'll burn this place to the ground and make you watch. Is that what you want Piccola Rosa?"
I believed him. There wasn't a shred of doubt in my mind that Leonardo Russo would slaughter an entire town to make a point.
"Fine," I whispered, defeat bitter on my tongue. "Just.. don't hurt anyone."
Victory flashed in his eyes, cold and absolute. "Wise choice. Five minutes. Nothing obvious, nothing traceable."
He released me, stepping back to block the entrance. I moved on autopilot, going to the small safe under the counter where I kept the shop's meager earnings and important documents. The combination blurred through tears I refused to shed, 2-7-5-9, Giulia's birthday.
Inside was everything that mattered: my savings, the fake ID, a small book of pressed flowers I'd collected since arriving. I took only the cash, leaving the rest. Hannah Rossi's sentimental treasures meant nothing now.
"Time's up," Leonardo announced, checking an obscenely expensive watch. "Let's go."
"I need to lock up." I said numbly.
He laughed, the sound cutting through the quiet shop. "You think you're coming back? You've played house long enough April. Time to come home."
"This is my home." I insisted, a final, futile protest.
His eyes hardened. "Your home is where I say it is. And right now, that's with me." He moved toward me, his patience visibly fraying. "We can do this the easy way, or I can carry you out like the disobedient child you're acting like."
Pride warred with survival instinct. In the end, survival won, as it always did.
I walked past him toward the door, chin raised despite the fear churning in my stomach. Outside, a black Maserati idled at the curb, its windows tinted to opacity. A hulking man in a dark suit stood beside it, his face impassive as we approached.
"Dante," Leonardo nodded to the man. "Our package is secured."
Dante. My father's right-hand man. The one who'd knocked on my bedroom door the night I fled. He looked older now, a new scar bisecting his left eyebrow, but his eyes were the same, flat and emotionless as he opened the car door.
"Signorina De Luca," he greeted, as if we'd seen each other yesterday and not three years ago. "Welcome back."
I stopped, rooted to the spot as reality crashed over me. This was really happening. I was being taken back to the world I'd fled, to a life I'd rejected, to a man who viewed me as property.
"I can't," I whispered, panic rising like a tide. "Please, I can't go back.."
Leonardo's patience snapped. His arm locked around my waist, lifting me against him as if I weighed nothing. I fought then, truly fought, kicking and scratching as he forced me toward the car. My nails raked his cheek, drawing blood, but his grip never faltered.
"ENOUGH!!" he snarled, pinning me against the car's side. His body pressed against mine, immobilizing me as his hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. "You try that again, and I'll sedate you for the entire trip. Understand?"
I glared up at him, hatred burning through my terror. "Fuck you."
Something flickered in his eyes, anger, yes, but something else. Something that sent a different kind of shiver down my spine.
"You will," he promised, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. "Thoroughly and repeatedly, once you learn your place."
Before I could respond, he shoved me into the car's backseat, following close behind. Dante closed the door, sealing us in leather-scented darkness as the engine purred to life.
As we pulled away from the curb, I caught a final glimpse of my shop, the flowers in their cheerful buckets, the hand-painted sign, the life I'd built from nothing. Elena stood across the street, phone in hand, watching with naked fear as the car accelerated.
I pressed my palm to the window, a silent goodbye to the only true friend I'd made in three years of freedom.
"Sentiment," Leonardo observed coldly from beside me. "Another weakness your father failed to beat out of you."
I turned to him, something breaking loose inside me. "My father is dead. You said so yourself. You don't get to invoke his name to control me."
"No?" He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with mock tenderness. "Then how about this, you belong to me now, April. Your father promised you to me, and I always collect what I'm owed."
"I'd rather die," I whispered.
His smile was terrifying in its certainty. "That can be arranged, Piccola Rosa. But first, you'll live, exactly as I dictate, for exactly as long as I find you amusing."
As the car merged onto the highway, carrying me away from everything I'd built, I realized the black rose had been a warning after all.