The moment Alessio's lips left hers, reality crashed down on Elena like a tidal wave.
What had she done?
She had given in.
She had whispered please.
She had let him touch her, claim her.
And worst of all—she had wanted it.
Her stomach twisted, nausea rolling through her as she jerked away from him, heart hammering against her ribs.
Alessio's grip tightened instantly, refusing to let her go.
His silver eyes flickered with amusement, but beneath it was something sharper. Something dangerous.
"What's wrong, piccola?" His voice was smooth, taunting. "Regretting it already?"
Elena's breath came fast and shallow. Yes.
No.
She didn't know.
Her mind screamed that this was wrong, that she was losing herself, that she needed to fight.
But her body?
Her body had already betrayed her.
The way she had leaned into him.
The way she had begged.
The shame of it burned through her, hot and suffocating.
"I…" she swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know who I am anymore."
Alessio's smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable. He studied her for a long, agonizing moment, then slowly sat up, pulling her with him.
Elena's pulse raced as she tried to move away, but he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him.
"Do you think you're weak?"
The question made her stomach churn.
Was she?
Had she let him break her?
Her hands curled into fists, teeth clenched. "You took everything from me."
Alessio tilted his head. "Did I?"
She sucked in a sharp breath. Yes. He had.
Her life.
Her choices.
Her freedom.
And yet…
Her throat tightened because deep down, she knew—he hadn't forced her to surrender.
Not entirely.
She had chosen to stop fighting.
And that terrified her more than anything.
She yanked her chin away from his grip, her voice sharp with desperation.
"I am not yours."
Alessio only laughed. A slow, deep sound that made the air between them heavy.
"You keep saying that." He traced his thumb over her lower lip, his eyes dark with amusement. "Yet here you are. In my bed. In my arms."
Elena shoved his hand away, her breath ragged.
This wasn't her.
This wasn't who she was supposed to be.
She was supposed to hate him.
Not crave him.
Not melt under his touch.
Not let him consume her.
She pushed off the bed, standing on shaky legs, but before she could take a single step, Alessio was in front of her.
Blocking her escape.
His eyes were sharp, unreadable.
"Where are you going?"
Elena's throat was dry.
"Away."
Alessio let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.
"No, you're not."
Her heart pounded.
She should run.
She should fight.
But she didn't.
Because the truth was, she didn't know where to go anymore.
The Elena who had walked into his world—reckless, naïve, untouchable—was gone.
And this new Elena?
The one who had begged for his touch?
The one who felt something other than hate for her captor?
She didn't know if she could live with herself.
Because if she had given in once…
What was stopping her from doing it again?
And again.
Until there was nothing left of the girl she used to be.