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His hand cradles my face, his thumb brushing away a droplet on my cheek, his touch gentle yet laden with an unspoken gravity. “No, Fallon. It’s not safe, and it won’t take long. We just need to check the last shipment that came into port,” he murmurs.
I open my mouth to protest, but he captures my lips with his, leaving me breathless and momentarily pacified. He pulls back too soon, leaving a cold space where warmth had just been.
Stepping out of the shower, I clutch a towel to my chest, the chill of the air biting at my wet skin. As I enter the bedroom, the sight of Leone waiting by the bed, handcuffs in hand, erases any lingering warmth from the shower. The bruises on my wrists from being in them constantly are deep blue, raw from grating against the metal.
Leone gestures sharply towards the floor in front of him, his command clear without words. My feet hesitate, and his impatience boils over. “Now!” he growls, the threat in his voice unmistakable.
Milo’s hand on my back contradicts his earlier warmth, a gentle push that feels like a betrayal. The promise of his touch in the shower fades into the harshness of this coercion.
“Please,” I whisper, the word barely escaping as I stare down at the handcuffs, then up at Leone, pleading. “You don’t need them, please.”
Leone’s gaze is stern, a deep brown that seems to see right through me. He remains silent, his stance uncompromising as the distance between us shrinks.
Panic flares within me as he stands and advances, the predator in him all too clear. Instinctively, I lash out, my arms flailing, fending him off as he reaches for me. Every slap and kick is fueled by a raw survival instinct, but he’s immovable, his grip iron tight.
“Fallon, stop this!” Milo’s voice cuts through the chaos, tinged with panic and something else—guilt?
As Milo intervenes, trying to grab me. I find myself caught between Milo’s intermittent kindness and Leone’s unrelenting control.
They grapple with me, their strength overwhelming as I’m tossed onto the bed, my breath coming in ragged gasps as they pin my thrashing body. A panic attack claws at the edges of my consciousness; I can’t breathe, can’t think, only feel the terror that threatens to consume me.
“Please,” I beg between gulps of air, “no cuffs... I won’t run... please…”
The room closes in on me, the once expansive space now feeling suffocating. Leone’s strong hands clamp down on my wrists. I try to draw in a breath, but it’s like inhaling through a straw, each shallow gulp of air sending tremors of terror spiraling down my spine.
My heart pounds against my ribs like a caged bird desperate for freedom, its frantic rhythm echoing in my ears and drowning out all other sounds. My vision blurs at the edges, tunneling until all I can see is Leone’s face - those piercing brown eyes boring into mine with chilling intensity. The walls continue to close around me, pressing in from all sides until nothing is left but him hovering over me.
The room spins around me as if I’m caught in some twisted carousel ride, and I feel an overwhelming urge to retch.
I’ve been scared before, but this... this is sheer terror that grips me now - raw and primal. It’s survival instinct kicking in when everything else falls away when you’re cornered with no way out, and your entire world narrows down to one terrifying reality – I can’t breathe.
The bed suddenly sinks beneath us as they flank me, their hands anchoring my trembling form. Milo’s icy grip on my wrists is hard, his futile attempts to soothe me only causing my heart to pound harder against my chest. Leone’s hand slips under the curve of my neck, cradling my head with a deceptive gentleness that forces me to meet his gaze. His eyes are like an endless abyss - swallowing me whole. His cologne invades my senses; it’s both recognizable and alien.
“Breathe,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear, his heated breath prickling goosebumps down the length of my spine despite the inferno blazing in those molten brown orbs.
“Calm down,” Milo echoes from beside him, his voice gritty and resonant as though it were echoing from miles away.
My skin feels like it’s ablaze beneath their hands as I struggle to free myself from their grasp, but they don’t budge.
“Shh... shh...” They whisper simultaneously, their voices reverberating through me like a bass line strumming already taut nerves. “I won’t handcuff you. Just breathe,” Leone says, his thumbs brushing down the sides of my face.
Leone’s eyes soften just a fraction as I struggle to breathe, a silent storm brewing behind them. Milo glances between us, uncertainty creasing his brow.
“Let me handle the shipment,” Milo offers. His hand is still on my arm but gentler now. “Stay with her.”
A heavy sigh escapes Leone, and the room holds its breath. “Fine,” he concedes, his gaze locked with mine. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay. I won’t leave,” Leone tells me, urging me to suck in more than a gasp as tears run into my hairline.
“You need to breathe, Fallon,” Milo tells me. Don’t they realize I am trying?
Suddenly, Leone’s lips crash down on mine, the shock having me suck in a breath and then another as his tongue invades my mouth. He pulls away and sighs, looking at Milo.
“Go, call if you need me,” Leone tells him.
Milo nods, releasing me as he steps back. The door shuts behind him, leaving a palpable tension hanging in the air.
Leone moves towards the handcuffs again, but I shrink away, fear pulsing through me, a relentless tide. He pauses, studying me, then tosses a dismissive glance toward the bathroom.
“If I am staying, I need to shower,” he mutters, dismissing the cuffs for now. He pulls me to sit up while I regain my senses. His hand on my arm remains until I move to the edge of the bed.
