Katie's POV:

"Don't look at me with that expression on your face," Lucio said, his voice a chilling mix of calm and cold fury. "You've disrespected me, and by putting up a fight and fucking up my men's images, you've made their jobs difficult. I would shoot you in the head if I didn't want to lose money."

His emerald eyes bored into mine, daring me to speak, to challenge him. His presence was suffocating, the weight of it pressing against me like a tangible force.

"And you think I care about your money?" I snapped, my voice dripping with venom. "You took me here against my will. Do you think kidnapping is a game? Do you always go around abducting young women? What a fucking dirtbag."

I watched as his expression darkened, his jaw tightening. Without a word, he stood and walked toward me with a swiftness that made my heart lurch. His movements were controlled, calculated, but the fire in his eyes was anything but.

"Oh, Katie," he murmured, his tone dangerous. "You've gone too far."

Before I could step back, his hand shot out, grasping a fistful of my hair. Pain radiated from the back of my head, sharp and immediate, but I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You think you can talk to me like that?" he hissed, his voice low and venomous. "You think your words have power here? I won't let you tempt me. I have never abused a woman, and I won't start with you. But God, you make it difficult."

His frustration was palpable, radiating off him in waves. I met his glare with my own, though my resolve wavered under the intensity of his gaze.

"Let me go," I gritted out through clenched teeth, struggling against his grip.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my skin. "Do you even hear yourself? Do you know who you're toying with, little girl?"

I squirmed, trying to free myself, but his hold only tightened. The raw strength in his hands reminded me of just how powerless I was in this moment.

"How incredibly brave of you," he continued, his tone dripping with mockery. "Do you know what I could do to you? Do you even realize the position you're in?"

When I didn't respond, his other hand moved to my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His green eyes were like ice, cold and unrelenting.

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice soft yet lethal.

My throat felt dry, my mind racing for a response. "I..."

"You keep talking about how I kidnapped you," he said, cutting me off. "But let me tell you something, Katie. Your parents set a price on you. They sold you. Sold you. I didn't pluck you out of thin air."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My chest tightened as my mind scrambled to process what he had just said. My parents had done terrible things to me—cruel, unforgivable things—but this? Selling me? Trading me for money?

"I don't believe you," I whispered, though my voice lacked any conviction.

Lucio laughed coldly, releasing my chin with a sharp motion. "Believe it," he said. "You're nothing more than a transaction, Katie. And I don't tolerate disrespect from the things I own."

That was it. Something inside me snapped, the anger bubbling up and spilling over before I could stop it.

"I'm not a thing," I said, my voice trembling with rage. "And I don't care what kind of monster you are—you don't own me."

His expression shifted, the amusement in his eyes replaced by something far more dangerous. The air between us grew heavy, charged with unspoken threats.

"Careful," he warned, his voice like the edge of a blade. "You're already on thin ice."

I took a step back, my chest heaving as I struggled to keep my composure. "You think you can scare me?" I shot back, my hands trembling. "I've been through worse than this."

"Is that so?" he said, his tone mocking. He stepped closer, the heat of his body pressing against mine. "Then why are you shaking?"

I clenched my fists, hating that he was right. My body betrayed me, my fear manifesting in every tremor of my hands.

"Enough," a voice interjected. Michen stepped into the room, his presence breaking the tension like a blade slicing through the air. "Boss, she's new. She doesn't know her place yet."

Lucio's gaze flicked to Michen, his lips curling into a cold smile. "And whose fault is that, Michen?"

Michen stiffened, his jaw tightening as he avoided Lucio's piercing gaze. "I'll deal with her."

"No," Lucio said sharply. His eyes returned to me, pinning me in place. "I'll deal with her."

When Michen left, the room felt even larger, the silence pressing down on me like a weight. Lucio stood a few feet away, his posture relaxed, but there was nothing casual about the way he watched me.

"You have quite the temper," he said finally, his voice almost conversational.

"You have quite the ego," I shot back.

A flicker of amusement passed over his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?"

"Why should I?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "What else can you do to me? You've already taken everything."

His eyes darkened, the humor vanishing from his expression. "You think you've lost everything?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You have no idea what real loss looks like."

The bitterness in his tone caught me off guard, but I refused to let it show. "And you think you're the authority on suffering?" I countered. "You, with your perfect house and your perfect life of power?"

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might explode. Instead, he laughed softly, the sound cold and humorless. "You think this is power?" he asked, gesturing around the room. "This is survival. And right now, you're barely managing it."

I swallowed hard, his words striking a chord I wasn't prepared for. But I wouldn't let him see how much he had gotten under my skin. "Then kill me if that's what you want," I said, lifting my chin defiantly. "If you're so desperate to prove your power, go ahead."

The room fell silent. Lucio's eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I thought I had pushed him too far. But then he smiled—a slow, dangerous smile that sent a chill down my spine.

"Killing you would be too easy," he said finally. "And far less entertaining."

I clenched my fists, hating the way he toyed with me. "What do you want from me?" I demanded. "Why am I even here?"

"You're here because your parents made you disposable," he said bluntly. "But I've kept you here because you're interesting."

"Interesting?" I repeated, my voice dripping with disdain. "I'm not some game for you to play."

"No," he agreed, stepping back and returning to his desk. "You're a challenge. And I enjoy challenges."

I stared at him, my anger simmering just beneath the surface. "You're insane."

He chuckled, picking up the glass of whiskey on his desk. "Maybe. But I'm the one in control, and you'd do well to remember that."

Back in my room, I slammed the door shut, sinking onto the edge of the bed. My hands trembled as I replayed the confrontation in my head, the weight of his words pressing down on me.

Lucio King was dangerous, and I was in far deeper than I had realized. But if he thought he could break me, he was wrong.

I wouldn't let him win.

Lucio's POV:

The blood on the wall was beginning to dry, but my knuckles were still bleeding. The pain was sharp, but I embraced it. It was better than the seething anger in my chest. Every drip of blood reminded me of what I needed to do—find Carson. Yet here I was, after three years, no closer to my revenge than I had been the day he disappeared.

I clenched my fist, feeling the sting shoot through my arm. My hand was swollen now, the skin broken and raw. The faint metallic scent of blood mixed with the whiskey on the desk behind me.

"How the hell can you not find him?" I bellowed at Michen, who stood by the door, arms crossed. His expression remained impassive, though I could see the tension in his shoulders. "I have the best hackers, the best men, and you're telling me you've got nothing?"

"King," Michen said, his voice calm but firm, "You're not thinking straight. It's been years. If Carson hasn't resurfaced by now, maybe he's—"

"Don't you dare say it." I whipped around, my glare piercing through him. "Carson's not dead. He's a coward, not a fool. He's hiding, biding his time. But I'll find him, Michen. And when I do—"

"You'll take his head," Michen finished for me, sighing. "Yeah, you've mentioned that. But if you keep punching walls and smashing glasses, you're going to lose your hand before you get the chance."

I ignored him, grabbing the vase on the table. Before I could hurl it, Michen was there, his hand on mine. "Enough," he said sharply. "This isn't helping. Marcelo's doing his job. Let him do it."

I let the vase go, shoving it back onto the table. "Marcelo better find something soon, or I'll start looking myself." I paced to the window, my hands on my hips, trying to rein in my temper. Outside, the estate grounds stretched endlessly, the manicured gardens mocking the chaos in my head.

Michen leaned casually against the table, his tone softening. "You're bleeding all over the place. Are you going to bandage that, or do you need someone to do it for you?" He smirked, gesturing toward my swollen hand.

"I'm fine," I snapped, grabbing the whiskey bottle and pouring myself a glass. "Besides, I've got five extra fingers. I'll manage."

"Sure, sure," Michen drawled, though his eyes flicked to my hand with mild concern. "And if you drop dead, I'll take over. First order of business: deal with that little girl upstairs."

At that, I chuckled, the sound bitter. "She's a wild one, isn't she? You look like hell after she was done with you."

"She scratched the shit out of my face," Michen muttered, running a hand over the faint marks. "Called me a follower."

I let out a genuine laugh, the first in days. "A follower, huh? She's got guts. I'll give her that."

Michen scoffed. "Guts? More like a death wish." He eyed me, his expression turning serious. "Why'd you bring her here anyway? What's the plan?"

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, the amber liquid catching the light. "She's... an investment," I said cryptically. "And an interesting one at that. You'll see soon enough."

Michen shook his head, clearly unconvinced, but he didn't press further. I gestured for him to leave, needing space to think. He hesitated, but when I shot him a pointed look, he gave a quick nod and left the room.

I leaned back against the desk, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The silence was suffocating, the only sound the faint rustling of the curtains as a breeze swept through the open window. My thoughts drifted to Katie—her fire, her defiance, her deadly cold eyes that somehow reminded me of the past I couldn't escape.

"She smelled like strawberries," I murmured, the faint trace of her scent lingering in my mind. It was unexpected, soft against her sharp edges. An enigma, that one.

Kate's POV

The house was silent as I closed the book I had been reading, setting it gently on the nightstand. The moonlight streaming through the glass doors painted the room in silver, casting long shadows across the polished floors. I stretched, my muscles aching from sitting too long. I needed water—or maybe just an excuse to move.

I made my way downstairs, the cool marble floors chilling my bare feet. The grandeur of the house never ceased to amaze me, though I refused to let it impress me. It was a cage, no matter how gilded, and I had no intention of forgetting that.

As I passed a partially open door, a low groan reached my ears. I froze, my hand hovering over the doorframe. It was faint, but unmistakable—someone was in pain.

Curiosity got the better of me. I pushed the door open, peering inside. The sight before me made me pause. Lucio was sprawled on the couch, his shirt rumpled, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. An empty bottle lay discarded on the floor.

But it wasn't the disheveled state of him that caught my attention—it was the blood. His knuckles were raw, the deep crimson stark against his pale skin. The sight made my stomach twist.

"Idiot," I muttered under my breath, stepping cautiously into the room. "What the hell did you do to yourself?"

He stirred slightly at the sound of my voice, his brow furrowing. I froze, my heart pounding, but he didn't wake. Letting out a slow breath, I knelt beside him, my eyes scanning his injuries.

"Why do I even care?" I grumbled, though my hands were already reaching for his injured hand. The wounds weren't deep, but they needed cleaning. "Stupid guy."

I hurried to his bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets until I found a first aid kit. Returning to the couch, I set the kit on the table and got to work, cleaning the blood off his knuckles.

"You're such a dumb man," I muttered as I wrapped the bandage around his hand. "Do you even care if you lose your fingers?"

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, piercing green and filled with confusion. "What... are you doing?" he asked, his voice rough.

I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. "You're hurt," I said quickly, my voice trembling slightly. "I'm just... helping."

His gaze softened for a moment, but then his usual smirk returned. "How noble of you," he drawled, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

"Don't flatter yourself," I shot back, tying off the bandage. "I just can't stand the sight of blood."

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then, to my surprise, he said softly, "Thank you."

I blinked, caught off guard. "You're welcome," I murmured, standing abruptly. "But don't get used to it."

As I turned to leave, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. "Katie," he said, his voice low. "You don't have to be afraid of me."

I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. "I'm not afraid of you," I lied, pulling my wrist free. "You're just... annoying."

He chuckled, the sound warm and unexpected. "Fair enough."

I left the room without looking back, my heart racing as I climbed the stairs. Back in my room, I sank onto the bed, my mind swirling with confusion. Lucio King was dangerous, but in that moment, he had been something else entirely.

I didn't know what to make of it.