That night, sleep evaded me completely. Michael wasn't home yet, and the weight of the past few days finally seemed to catch up, pressing heavily on my chest.

When I did drift off, it wasn't peaceful. Dark memories clawed their way to the surface. I dreamt of my parents' death-an endless, haunting replay of everything I'd tried so hard to bury. I tossed and turned in bed, trapped in a cycle of nightmares and exhaustion.

Sometime after midnight, I heard the faint creak of the front door. Michael was finally home. Although I had my back to him, he seemed to sense that I was awake. I could feel his presence as he approached the bed, the gentle weight as he sat down on the edge beside me. A warm hand rested on my arm, and he began to rub it soothingly.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with concern.

Something inside me broke. Before I knew it, I'd leapt out of bed, throwing my arms around him in an urgent, almost desperate embrace. For a moment, he stiffened, caught off guard by the suddenness of it. But then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close.

He held me firmly but tenderly, his hand resting on my back, grounding me. I felt the reassuring rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing. He bent his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on top of my head, and in that moment, the turmoil began to quiet.

With Michael's arms around me, the nightmares felt a little less overwhelming, the memories a little less sharp.

I walked over to Andrea, glancing down at her phone to see what had made her so motionless. And then I saw it. That bastard had messaged her. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? She was finally on the verge of starting over, yet her past kept dragging her back down.

A wave of fear washed over me. I'd lost too many people in my life-I couldn't lose her, too. Never her. She was my everything: my foundation, my sister, my world. Losing her would shatter me beyond repair. And if Salvatore was involved, I knew that whatever he had planned for her would be twisted, and cruel. He'd make her suffer before he was done, and then he'd come after all of us.

I looked up and saw Michael's face, expression unreadable but tense. Raffaele looked furious, though caution simmered beneath his anger. He wasn't foolish enough to underestimate Salvatore, not with all the connections he had-the kind that could haunt us, even years down the line.

Michael's expression shifted to that familiar neutral mask, carefully concealing his thoughts. Andrea, meanwhile, remained perfectly composed, her face betraying nothing. But I knew her well enough to sense that she was already running through a thousand strategies in her mind, each one a desperate attempt to rid herself of Salvatore for good.

If Salvatore was back, then we were all back in his orbit. He would stop at nothing to get revenge on Andrea for putting him behind bars thirteen years ago.

Though she hid it well, I could tell she was deeply unsettled by him resurfacing. Who wouldn't be? He was a dark, relentless force. If I'd been in her shoes, I wouldn't have wanted to live through it, either.

Raffaele gently took Andrea's arm, leading her towards their room, giving her a momentary escape. Michael walked up beside me and placed his hand reassuringly on my shoulder.

"It'll be alright," he murmured, his voice calm and steady. "We'll protect you both."

"Don't you see?" I replied, a touch of frustration leaking into my tone. "She feels even more guilt now, for dragging you all into this. Your family is in danger because of her past. Gabrielle will have to be ten times more careful now, and I know that's weighing on her."

Michael's gentle words, though intended to reassure, only stoked a restless energy in me. I could feel his eyes reading my frustration.

With a small, determined smile, he said, "I'll train you. You'll be strong enough to defend yourself. Andrea's got the skills to handle herself, and Gabrielle, too. Soon enough, under my training, you'll be able to handle anything Salvatore throws your way."

A faint smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he said it, and despite the gravity of the situation, I found myself captivated. Behind that tough exterior, Michael was still young-a man in his early twenties with all the strength and experience of someone twice his age. It was a tragic reality of our world, where even children could be turned into pawns or weapons.

Familial love didn't exist in this world, at least not for most of us. But here we were, a strange, tightly bound family forged by loyalty, necessity, and love. And somehow, despite the shadows that loomed, I felt like maybe-just maybe-we could stand against Salvatore together.