Lucio's POV: 

I ran to her room, hearing her scream, the sound slicing through the silence of the night like a knife. Her voice was raw, filled with fear and pain.

"Please, don't!" she cried out.

When I burst through the door, the sight before me made my stomach drop. Kate was twisting and turning on the bed, her hands clutching the sheets as though they were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her words were fragmented, desperate.

"Stop, please," she sobbed, her voice cracking.

I frowned, standing at the threshold, unsure of what to do. What the hell was she dreaming about? I knew it had to be that stupid movie from earlier. She'd insisted on watching it despite shaking like a leaf the whole time. We told her not to, but she never listens. And now this.

"Kate!" I called, but she didn't respond. Her cries only grew louder, her body trembling. I stormed toward the bed, pulling back the duvet and climbing in beside her.

I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against my chest. "Shut the hell up already," I muttered, though my tone lacked the bite it usually carried. I hated the sound of her sobbing—the way it made the room feel colder and heavier. "It's just a dream."

As if sensing my presence, her body relaxed slightly. Her frantic movements stilled, and her breathing steadied as she unconsciously burrowed closer to me. Her small frame fit against mine perfectly, and for a moment, the chaos in my mind quieted. She was soft, fragile, and warm.

I told myself I wasn't planning to stay. But as her breathing grew more even and the room fell silent, I found myself staring at her peaceful face. Her cheeks were still damp, her lips slightly parted. She looked... perfect. Too perfect.

I felt something strange stir in my chest, something I didn't want to name. With a frustrated sigh, I forced myself to stay still until her breathing deepened and her grip on my shirt loosened. It was only after four in the morning when I finally slipped out of her bed and returned to my own room.

The next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by her voice.

"Aaahhh! Put me down!" she shrieked from outside.

What the hell? I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. Ten a.m.? Damn it, I was late. I rarely overslept, but last night had been... different. I groaned, rolling out of bed and heading straight for the shower. The cold water hit my skin like a slap, waking me fully. I grabbed a suit from the closet, trying and failing to tie my tie for the hundredth time.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was already irritated. The smell of breakfast wafted through the air, teasing my empty stomach. "Why didn't someone wake me up?" I demanded, glaring at the group seated at the table.

Jordan snorted. "Why should we wake you up, asshole?"

"You're usually up before any of us. What's so special about today?" Michen added, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Shut the fuck up, Michen," I snapped, but they both chuckled, clearly enjoying my frustration. My eyes scanned the table, landing on Kate as she stomped up the stairs. Her hair was messy, and her cheeks flushed from what I assumed was a shouting match with one of the guys.

"What's her problem?" I muttered.

"Maybe it's because we woke her up with our yelling," Steven said, shrugging. "I'd be pissed too."

"No," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Why the hell is she cursing? She didn't used to talk like that."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Maybe she's picking it up from you, King."

I ignored him, already heading up the stairs. Her door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open without knocking. She was sitting on the windowsill, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring out at the gray clouds gathering in the distance.

"We need to talk," I said, stepping inside.

"I don't want to talk," she said, her voice flat. "Just let me go. You don't need me for anything, so why keep me here?"

Her words were like a slap, and I struggled to keep my temper in check. She didn't look at me, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands clenched into fists.

"I'll admit it," she said bitterly. "You've hurt me more than my parents ever did—physically and emotionally. But I was fine before you. Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

My chest tightened at her words, though I masked it with anger. "You don't understand," I said, taking a step toward her. "If I let you go, you'll be in danger."

She finally turned to face me, her eyes blazing. "Danger? I've been in danger my entire life! Don't act like you're doing me some kind of favor by keeping me here."

I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. "You will not disrespect me, Kate. Or my men. If you do—"

"You'll kill me?" she interrupted, her voice trembling with anger and something else—pain, maybe. "Go ahead. Do it."

I stared at her, my heart pounding. She sniffed, wiping at her face, and I realized she was crying again. Before I could respond, Michen barged in, grinning. "Dude, aren't you going to fix your tie? You suck at it."

"Get out," I growled, but he ignored me.

"Let Kate do it," he suggested. I glanced at her, and she stood reluctantly, her face still streaked with tears.

Her hands shook slightly as she worked on my tie, her eyes never meeting mine. I hadn't realized how close we were until her fingers brushed against my collar. My throat tightened, but I forced myself to stay still.

"Done," she said quietly, stepping back. The tension between us was thick, but before I could say anything, Michen broke the silence.

"King, you're late," he said, smirking.

"Shut up," I snapped, snatching the lunchbox he handed me. "What's this?"

"Breakfast, lunch, and sandwiches," he said. "Kate made it."

I paused, my gaze flicking to her. She avoided my eyes, retreating to the bed without a word.

"Fine," I muttered, heading for the garage. I yelled at one of the guards for my keys before spotting them hanging on the wall. Muttering a curse, I grabbed them and sped off, breaking every red light on the way to the office.

By the time I arrived, my employees greeted me with their usual nervous smiles. I nodded, heading straight to my private elevator. Once in my office, I opened the lunchbox and stared at the neatly packed meal. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, and sausages. My favorites.

There was a note taped to the thermos. I unfolded it, recognizing Kate's handwriting.

I forgot to give you coffee and juice. Sorry.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. What the hell was she doing to me?The next evening, I found myself pacing the hallway outside Kate's room. The house was unusually quiet, the absence of chatter and laughter amplifying my thoughts. The words I wanted to say felt tangled in my throat, the weight of guilt pressing down on me. I hated this feeling—weakness, regret—but for her, I needed to swallow my pride.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly on the door. "Kate, it's me," I said, my voice uncharacteristically hesitant. When she didn't answer, I opened the door slowly. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring blankly at the floor.

"I told you I don't want to talk," she said, her tone weary.

"I know," I replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. "But I need to say this."

She didn't look at me, but I could tell from the way her shoulders tensed that she was listening.

"I'm... sorry," I began, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. "For hurting you. For losing control. I—"

"Stop," she interrupted, her voice sharper now. Her eyes finally met mine, and the raw pain I saw there hit me like a punch to the gut. "You don't get to apologize and make it all better, Lucio."

"I'm not trying to make it better," I said quickly, moving closer. "I just... I need you to know that I didn't mean to hurt you. That wasn't—" I paused, struggling to find the right words. "That wasn't me."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Wasn't you? Then who was it, Lucio? Because it sure as hell felt like you."

I flinched at her words, guilt clawing at my chest. "I know I fucked up," I admitted. "I know I've been... harsh. But I'm trying, Kate. I'm trying to be better."

She sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Trying isn't enough right now. I can't just forget what happened, Lucio. I can't pretend like it didn't hurt—like it still doesn't hurt."

"I'm not asking you to forget," I said, my voice soft. "I'm asking you to give me a chance to prove that I can be better."

She stood abruptly, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to face me. "And how am I supposed to do that? Just sit here and wait for you to figure out how to be a decent person? I've been through too much already, Lucio. I don't have it in me to be your experiment."

Her words stung, but I couldn't argue with them. She was right. I had no right to ask for her forgiveness, let alone expect it.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked quietly. "Tell me, and I'll do it."

She hesitated, her expression conflicted. "I need space," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Time away from you."

The words hit me harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes stopped me. She was serious, and I knew better than to push her right now.

"Okay," I said, my throat tight. "If that's what you need."

She seemed surprised by my agreement, her brows furrowing slightly. "You mean that?"

I nodded, though it felt like a part of me was being ripped away. "I do. I'll... I'll stay away."

For a moment, we just stood there, the silence between us heavy. Finally, she sat back down on the bed, her posture slumping with exhaustion.

"Thank you," she said softly, her gaze fixed on the floor.

I nodded again, my hands clenching at my sides as I fought the urge to say more. To beg her to reconsider. But I knew that wouldn't help either of us. With a deep breath, I turned and walked toward the door.

Before I left, I paused, glancing back at her. "For what it's worth," I said quietly, "I'm sorry, Kate. I really am."

She didn't respond, and I didn't wait for her to. I closed the door behind me, the sound of the latch clicking into place echoing in my ears. As I made my way down the hall, the weight of her words settled heavily on my chest.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze. The guys tried to pull me into their usual antics, but I wasn't in the mood. Michen noticed, of course, and cornered me in the living room after dinner.

"You look like hell," he said bluntly, sitting down across from me.

"Thanks for the observation," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

"What happened with Kate?" he asked, his tone softer now.

I hesitated, my jaw tightening. "She wants space."

Michen raised an eyebrow. "And you agreed?"

"What else was I supposed to do?" I snapped. "She's hurt. She's angry. I can't force her to forgive me."

"No, you can't," Michen agreed. "But you can show her that you're serious about changing."

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I don't even know where to start."

"Start by giving her the space she asked for," he said simply. "But don't disappear completely. Let her see that you're trying, even if it's from a distance."

I nodded reluctantly, his words making sense even though they didn't make me feel any better. "Yeah. I'll try."

"You better," Michen said with a small smirk. "Because if you screw this up, I'm not taking your side."

Despite myself, I chuckled, shaking my head. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Anytime," he said, standing and clapping me on the shoulder. "Now get some sleep. You look like you need it."

That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her words echoed in my mind. I need space. Time away from you.

It hurt more than I wanted to admit, but I knew she was right. If I had any hope of fixing this—of fixing us—I had to respect her wishes. Even if it killed me.