"Do you always have to be so damn cold?" My voice cracked through the stillness of the room, sharp and deliberate. I knew the words were risky, but after everything—being dragged into this mansion, caged like an animal, forced into submission—I couldn't hold them back any longer.
Alexander's wide shoulders tensed as though my words had struck him in the middle of his stride. His icy-blue eyes met mine as he slowly turned to face me. Only the uncompromising steel that had frightened me from the first time I had seen him was present; there was no warmth.. "And do you always have to be so reckless, Dysis?" His voice was calm, low, but laced with a warning I knew better than to ignore.
I didn't back down. Not this time. "Reckless? You think standing up for myself is reckless? Newsflash, Alexander, I'm not some puppet you can dangle on strings."
He tilted his head, the faintest trace of amusement—or maybe irritation—dancing in his expression. "No, you're not a puppet. You're a storm. Unpredictable, wild… and utterly foolish."
"Foolish?" I laughed, a bitter sound that filled the space between us. "You've got a lot of nerve calling anyone foolish when you're the one playing god with people's lives." The air in the room altered, filled with anxiety. He stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, predatory. Each step made my pulse race faster, but I refused to show fear.
"You think you understand me? My choices? My world?" His voice dropped, dangerously quiet. "You don't have a clue, Dysis. And if you did, you'd understand that this is not a game you wish to participate in.
"Then help me understand," I retorted, my voice shaking even though I tried hard to appear calm. "Explain to me why you believe it's acceptable to treat others in this way." To have me treated this way.
For a brief instant, a glimmer appeared in his eyes—perhaps pain or regret—but it vanished so swiftly I considered I had seen it in my imagination. His jaw tightened, and his gaze turned elsewhere, as though staring at me for too long could break the barriers he had established around himself.
"You couldn't endure my world," he finally remarked, his tone chillier than ever.
"Perhaps not," I retorted. "Still, I strive to uphold my own values instead of hiding behind power and fear."
His fists were tightly clenched at his sides, and his mouth shaped a narrow line.
"Sufficient." The one word cut like a knife through the atmosphere.
However, I still had more to say.
Later that night, I roamed the infinite corridors of the mansion, my thoughts spinning with the pieces of our prior dispute. Alexander Levi was a solid wall of a man, unyielding and indestructible. Yet for the first time, I noticed something—fractures in the defense.
As I turned the corner, I came to a stop. The entrance to what appeared to be his study was slightly open, the warm light from a desk lamp pouring into the dark corridor. Despite my better judgment, I moved nearer, gazing inside.
Alexander sat at the large desk, his head lowered, one hand clutching his hair. His other hand lay on a photo frame, his thumb gliding over the picture.
I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes to get a better view. A woman gazed back at me from the picture—red locks flowing over her shoulders, her smile bright and inviting, her chilling blue eyes strikingly recognizable.
"Rosie," Alexander murmured, his tone so gentle it
I froze, a million questions flooding my mind. Was she his lover? His wife?
Before I could think better of it, the floor creaked beneath my foot. Alexander's head shot up, his sharp gaze slicing through the dim light to find me in the doorway.
"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was cold again, the vulnerability I'd just witnessed disappearing in an instant.
"I…" The words caught in my throat as he stood, his imposing figure towering over me in seconds.
"You don't belong here, Dysis." His tone was sharp, but there was something else beneath it. Panic? Pain?
I ignored the warning in his eyes and gestured toward the photo. "Who is she?"
His expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might throw me out entirely. But then he surprised me.
"She was my mom," he stated, his tone softer at that moment.
The words lingered in the atmosphere, heavy with unexpressed feelings. He averted his eyes from me, his attention still on the photo, his thumb gliding over the glass as if that minor action could calm the turmoil within him.
A wave of astonishment coursed through me, and I sensed my heartbeat accelerate. This woman, with her soft smile and piercing blue eyes that reflected his, was the cause of the cold, heartless man facing me? She was his stability, his support, the one who had molded him into who he became—or perhaps, the one whose absence had left him empty.
It became evident that Alexander Levi was more than just the formidable mafia leader I had been made to fear and follow. Beneath the cold gaze and the authoritative demeanor, there lay an unhealed scar, one that had never mended.
"I… I apologize," I hesitated, not knowing what more to express.
His grip on the frame tightened, and for an instant, I believed he might break it. His gaze shifted to mine, and within it, I detected something that frightened me—a fragility that was both ephemeral and intense.
However, before I could comprehend it, he stood up straight, the facade of composure reestablishing itself. "Mind your own affairs, Dysis." "This is your initial and sole warning."
The harshness in his voice snapped me out of my thoughts, but the crack in his armor was still there, just beneath the surface. I could see it. I could feel it. He was human, not some untouchable force. And I wasn't about to let that knowledge slip away without understanding more.
That night, as I lay in the unfamiliar luxury of my room, I couldn't stop thinking about him. About her. About the silent pain that haunted Alexander. The man who controlled everything around him, the one who demanded my submission, was not the one I had seen in that brief moment of vulnerability. He was broken in ways I hadn't expected, and something about that made my heart ache.
But I couldn't let it go. No, there was too much mystery, too much unanswered. I had to learn more about his past. His mother, the woman who had meant so much to him, had to hold the key to understanding the man who stood before me with cold authority. I wondered if, perhaps, understanding her would allow me to see the cracks in his armor, to expose what he kept buried beneath the surface.
As the night stretched on, I found myself staring out the window, the dark sky swallowing everything outside. My thoughts were muddled, half-formed, and restless. Was I pushing too far? Risking too much? And yet, something deep inside me—the same stubborn spirit that had never bowed to my father's cruelty—urged me to seek the truth.
I had to know who Alexander Levi really was. Not the mafia boss. Not the ruthless leader. The man behind all of it.
The noise of something falling downstairs startled me awake. It was noisy, jarring, and so abrupt that my heart felt like it halted. My breath was trapped in my throat. I bolted upright in bed, paralyzed for an instant, the quiet after the crash overwhelming in its calmness.
Then there were the distinct echoes of heavy footsteps in the corridor—quick, purposeful. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears as I lifted my legs off the bed and inched toward the door, making my movements careful and quiet.
I rested my hand on the icy knob, gradually twisting it, taking care to remain silent. The door opened slightly, allowing me to glimpse into the shadows of the corridor. Every part of me urged me to remain concealed, to avoid whatever was unfolding, yet my curiosity—my desire to grasp the world I'd been thrown into—drove me onward.
A shadowy silhouette darted quickly along the hallway, too fast for me to see their features. I sensed the threat around me, heavy with an unsettling presence. The footsteps hesitated momentarily, then resumed, each sound resonating like a caution.
Then I listened to it. A voice—deep, gritty, and clearly threatening.
"Tonight, we conclude this."
The words were heavy with danger, the sort of hostility that caused the hairs on my neck to prickle. My heart pounded as I leaned against the doorframe, scarcely breathing, terrified of making any noise.
Who were they discussing? What were their intentions? And why did it seem like I had unexpectedly entered something much more sinister than I had ever expected?
The moment dragged on, stretching out into eternity. The hallway's shadows appeared to grow longer with it, becoming more menacing by the moment. My gut told me to flee, to hide, to get as far away from whatever was going on as possible.
But my feet stayed rooted to the spot. I couldn't look away.
This was no longer just about surviving. This was about understanding. And whether I liked it or not, I was already too far in to turn back.