Elena didn't like being reminded of her place.
But tonight, the reminder came sharp and silent.
She had been walking through the estate's inner gardens, the lamps casting long, distorted shadows across the marble paths. The night was unusually quiet, almost sterile—too quiet. Even the fountains, usually gurgling softly, seemed muted, as if the air itself was holding its breath. She moved carefully, heels clicking against the stone, each step measured.
Then she saw them.
Three men in dark suits, standing too casually by the fountain, their eyes following her every movement. Their posture was deliberate, relaxed, as if confidence could mask threat. One leaned against the edge, smirking like a predator assessing prey.
Her stomach tightened. She didn't panic—she didn't need to. Panic had never helped her. Awareness and patience had always been her allies. Her fingers brushed against the dagger hidden beneath her cloak, and she felt the familiar surge of focus sharpen her senses.
"You think this is funny?" she asked, voice calm but edged with warning.
The smirk widened, an invitation to underestimate her. "Late nights aren't safe for little wives," the tallest said, voice smooth, mocking, dripping with false charm.
Elena's pulse flickered, a sharp reminder that danger had many forms. This was not just about them—it was about testing boundaries, about seeing if she would flinch.
Before the men could step further, a shadow moved beside the statues lining the fountain. A shift in the air that was almost imperceptible.
Luca appeared.
Not loud. Not sudden. Just…there. Present. His presence shifted the temperature of the night, the shadows bending toward him. The men straightened instantly, their confidence faltering.
"You're trespassing," Luca said softly, each word deliberate and sharp. "You don't test me. You don't test her. You don't test this place."
The tallest swallowed, voice tight. "We—we were just—"
"You were warned," Luca interrupted, voice calm, unflinching. One hand rested lightly on the gun at his hip. No threat, only fact.
The men's eyes flicked between him and Elena, realizing for the first time that she was not just beside him but protected by him—and that protection came with an unspoken cost for anyone who misstepped.
"Leave," Luca said. "And if you ever return…consider this a courtesy."
They departed quickly, glancing once at Elena as though she were an untouchable figure carved from porcelain. Her chest rose and fell with slow relief, tension loosening like a tightly coiled spring.
"Your…warning shorts," she said, raising a brow as she exhaled, half amused, half chastened.
Luca's eyes found hers, dark, controlled, dangerous. "Some lessons," he said softly, "are best delivered quietly. You survived tonight without incident. That doesn't mean the world won't bite next time."
Her pulse spiked again. "And if it does?"
"Then you will know why the shorts exist," he replied, firm and steady—like iron wrapped in shadow. Not cruel. Not punitive. Just truth. Boundaries drawn, clear, immovable.
Elena nodded, absorbing the weight of the lesson. Words weren't necessary. His warning had been given. She had been seen, protected, and reminded without a single overt threat beyond presence and control—of the hierarchy of power between them and the world outside.
Luca turned, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the lamps, and began walking away. She watched him disappear into the darkness, feeling the lingering warmth of his authority against her skin, the echo of unspoken vigilance settling deep into her awareness.
Two truths crystallized inside her:
One—he had protected her.
Two—he had reminded her who truly controlled the boundaries here.
And tonight, the warning had bitten deeper than any physical blow ever could.
Her hand brushed absentmindedly against her side where the dagger rested, a grounding gesture. The garden was quiet again, almost reverent. Elena took a slow breath, letting her shoulders relax—but she knew better than to let guard down completely. The night had reminded her of one immutable fact: in this world, survival required awareness, respect, and an unshakable understanding of who held the line.
And Luca had just ensured she remembered both.