Kate's POV

As I stood in front of the mirror, the soft glow of the bedroom light illuminated every inch of my reflection. My fingers lightly traced the faint scar on my abdomen, and an unexpected chill raced up my spine. It was barely noticeable now, hidden beneath the fabric of my clothing most days, but I could feel its presence like a ghost of my past, a reminder of the night my life took a darker turn.

My chest tightened as the memory began to surface, vivid and relentless.

The air in the room had been suffocating, thick with dread as Carl's heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. I knew he was coming. The locked door between us was a flimsy barrier against his rage. My heart pounded so loudly I feared it would give me away.

He burst in with a force that rattled the walls, his eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. I backed away instinctively, my hands trembling as they gripped the pocket knife hidden in my hoodie. "Stay away," I had managed to stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

Carl sneered, his grip like a vice, as he shoved me against the wall. His breath was hot and sour against my face. "You're mine," he hissed, each word slicing through me.

Panic surged as he forced me onto the bed. With every ounce of strength I had left, I clutched the knife and plunged it into his side. The guttural groan of pain that escaped his lips gave me a fleeting sense of hope.

But that hope was short-lived. His retaliation was swift and brutal, the blade of the knife tearing into my abdomen with a force that stole the air from my lungs. I collapsed, the pain blinding, my vision swimming as darkness overtook me.

"Kate! Are you coming?"

Michen's voice snapped me back to the present. I blinked, my reflection blurring as tears welled in my eyes. "Just give me a sec to put on some clothes," I called, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat.

Quickly, I pulled on a sundress, the fabric soft against my skin. It was a little looser than I preferred, but it was comfortable.

As I made my way toward the kitchen to grab a drink, the sharp click of heels echoed down the hallway. I turned to see a young woman with fiery red hair storming in, her eyes narrowed on me like a hawk sizing up its prey.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you in Lucio's house?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

I blinked, startled by her sudden aggression. "I—I'm Kate," I stammered, instinctively stepping back.

"Kate, huh? And what makes you think you belong here?" she sneered, her hand reaching behind her back.

"Emily, what are you doing?" Michen's voice cut through the tension as he stepped into the room, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation.

"I'm handling an intruder," Emily snapped, pulling out a knife. The glint of the blade caught the light, and my heart lurched in my chest.

"An intruder?" I echoed, my voice trembling. "I live here!"

"Not for long," she hissed, taking a step closer.

Before I could react, Lucio appeared in the doorway, his expression dark and foreboding. "Emily, put the knife down," he ordered, his voice low but commanding.

Emily hesitated, her grip on the knife faltering as she turned to face him. "Lucio, I was just—"

"I said put it down," he repeated, his green eyes blazing with anger.

Reluctantly, she dropped the knife onto the table with a metallic clatter, crossing her arms defiantly. "I thought she was a threat," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Does she look like a threat to you?" Lucio asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Emily didn't answer, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Get out of my house," Lucio said, his voice ice-cold.

Emily's eyes widened in shock. "What? Lucio, you can't be serious!"

"You just pulled a knife on someone under my roof," he said, his tone unwavering. "Get out. Now."

Emily's face flushed with anger and embarrassment as she turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

The room fell into a tense silence. My hands were still trembling as I stared at the knife on the table, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.

"Are you okay?" Michen asked, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded numbly, but the knot in my stomach didn't ease.

"Lucio, what the hell was that about?" I finally asked, turning to face him.

"She's just overly protective," he said dismissively, as if that explained everything.

"Overly protective?" I repeated, my voice rising. "She pulled a knife on me, Lucio!"

"I handled it," he said, his tone firm but detached.

"That's not the point!" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "You keep dragging me into this world of yours without telling me anything, and now I've got people pulling knives on me? Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?"

Lucio's expression hardened, his jaw tightening. "I didn't drag you into anything, Kate. You're here because—"

"Because you bought me," I cut him off, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "And now I'm stuck here, in a house full of secrets and danger, with no idea what's going on around me!"

The room fell silent again, the weight of my words hanging heavily between us.

"You think I wanted this for you?" Lucio finally said, his voice low but intense. "You think I enjoy watching you struggle to adjust, to feel safe? I'm trying, Kate. I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" I scoffed, crossing my arms. "By keeping me in the dark? By letting people like Emily waltz in here with weapons?"

"I can't control everything," he admitted, his voice strained. "But I'm doing the best I can."

"Well, it's not enough," I said, tears welling up in my eyes. "I didn't ask for this, Lucio. I didn't ask to be bought or protected or thrown into this... this mess."

Lucio's shoulders slumped, his usual air of confidence faltering. "You're right," he said quietly. "You didn't ask for this. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Kate. Not while you're under my roof."

I didn't respond; the tension between us was thick and suffocating. Finally, I turned and left the room, retreating to my bedroom, where I could finally let the tears fall freely.

Hours passed, and the house grew quiet. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling as my mind replayed the events of the evening. The fear, the anger, the confusion—it was all too much.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence.

"Kate?" Lucio's voice was hesitant, uncharacteristically unsure.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice hoarse from crying.

The door creaked open, and he stepped inside, his expression unreadable. "I wanted to check on you," he said, his voice low.

"I'm fine," I said, though the lump in my throat betrayed me.

"You don't have to pretend with me," he said, taking a cautious step closer.

I sat up, wiping at my tear-streaked face. "Why do you care, Lucio? Why does it matter to you how I feel?"

He hesitated, his green eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Because you matter to me," he said simply.

The sincerity in his voice disarmed me, and I felt the walls I'd built around myself begin to crumble.

"I was so scared," I admitted, my voice trembling. "When she pulled that knife... I thought—"

"You're safe now," he interrupted, his voice firm. "I promise you, Kate. Nothing like that will happen again."

I looked away, the weight of his words almost too much to bear. "I don't know if I can trust you," I said softly.

"You can," he said, stepping closer until he was right in front of me. "And I'll prove it to you. Whatever it takes."

For the first time that night, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

Lucio sat down beside me, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my emotions. And as the night wore on, I allowed myself to believe that I wasn't alone in this fight. "She's my sister."

Lucio's revelation hit me like a freight train. Emily was his sister? The same woman who had pulled a knife on me, who looked ready to cut me down without a second thought? It didn't make sense, and I couldn't hide the skepticism in my voice as I stared at him.

"She's your sister?" I repeated, my tone sharp. "You're telling me that woman, who threatened me in your kitchen, is your sister?"

Lucio nodded, his expression unreadable but his posture stiff, like he was bracing himself for my reaction. "Yes, she's my sister. And she's... always been like that. Overprotective. Paranoid, even."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Paranoid? She nearly attacked me with a knife, Lucio. That's more than paranoia. That's psychotic behavior."

He winced at my words, running a hand through his hair. "I know it looks bad, but Emily's always had a strong sense of loyalty to our family. She sees anyone new as a potential threat until proven otherwise."

"Well, newsflash, Lucio, I'm not a threat," I snapped, my voice shaking. "I'm just a woman trying to survive in this insane situation you've thrown me into. And now I have to deal with someone who thinks it's okay to pull a knife on me in your house?"

Lucio's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I didn't throw you into anything, Kate," he said, his voice low and measured, though I could hear the tension simmering beneath the surface. "I'm doing my best to keep you safe."

"Safe?" I echoed, incredulous. "Do you even hear yourself right now? If this is what safety looks like, I'd hate to see danger. Your sister doesn't know me, and she didn't even try to. She just assumed I was some kind of enemy and decided to act on it."

Lucio sighed heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, I saw something like guilt in his eyes. "You're right," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "She went too far. I should have warned her about you. I should have handled it better."

"Yes, you should have," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "But you didn't. And now I'm supposed to just be okay with the fact that someone in this house sees me as a target?"

"Emily isn't like that," Lucio said, his tone defensive. "She's protective, but she's not... dangerous."

"Not dangerous?" I said, my voice rising. "Lucio, she held a knife to me. How is that not dangerous?"

His hands raked through his hair again, frustration etched into every line of his face. "She's my sister, Kate. She's always been this way. She thinks she's protecting me, protecting the family. I'll talk to her. I'll make sure this doesn't happen again."

I shook my head, pacing the room as I tried to process everything. "This isn't just about Emily, Lucio. It's about everything. I'm living in a house where I don't feel safe, with people I barely know, and I don't even understand why I'm here half the time. And now I find out that one of those people is your sister, and she's capable of... of that?"

"I brought you here to protect you," he said, his voice rising slightly as if he was trying to convince himself as much as me. "I didn't expect you to feel unsafe in my home."

"Then maybe you should have thought this through," I snapped, spinning on my heel to face him. "Because right now, Lucio, I don't feel safe at all. And you need to figure out how to fix that, or—"

"Or what?" he interrupted, standing abruptly. His towering presence was imposing, but I didn't back down.

"Or I'm leaving," I said firmly, though my heart was pounding in my chest. "I'll figure it out on my own if I have to, but I can't stay here if this is what I have to deal with."

Lucio's expression hardened, his green eyes blazing with frustration. "You think you can just leave? That it's that simple?"

"It should be that simple," I shot back. "But you've made everything so damn complicated. You brought me here, Lucio. You made me a part of this mess, and now you're acting like I don't have the right to be upset about what's happening."

He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "You don't understand what you're asking for, Kate. If you leave, you'll be a target. Do you get that? Out there, you're vulnerable. Here, I can protect you."

I felt a lump rising in my throat, but I refused to let it show. "Protect me? Like you protected me from Emily? Face it, Lucio. You don't know how to keep me safe. Not really."

His shoulders tensed, and for a moment, I thought he was going to snap. But instead, he exhaled slowly, the tension in his posture easing slightly. "You're right," he said quietly. "I've made mistakes. And I'll fix them. I'll talk to Emily, and I'll make sure she knows you're not a threat. But you need to give me time, Kate. This... this isn't easy for me either."

Something in his tone made me pause. There was a vulnerability there, a crack in the armor he usually wore so tightly. For the first time, I saw him not as the cold, calculating man I'd come to know, but as someone struggling to hold everything together.

"Goodnight, Lucio," I said, my voice quieter now.

"Goodnight, Kate," he replied, his tone tinged with something I couldn't quite place—regret, perhaps, or resolve.

As he left the room, I sank onto the bed, my mind racing with thoughts I couldn't untangle. Could I really trust him to keep his word? Or was I setting myself up for more disappointment?