The Don's Forbidden Muse

I watch as the rain comes down in sheets, battering against the windows, blurring the world beyond. Had this been a different scene, I would say it was beautiful, but that's far from the case. Inside the villa, everything is chaos. The room is a mess—furniture overturned, glass scattered across the floor, and something red that shouldn’t be there, is spread across the marble like a warning. I step over it, barely feeling the cold seep into my shoes.

My hands are shaking and I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m frozen, trapped in this moment that feels like it’s dragging on forever. I can hear his breathing, heavy and sharp. He is standing in the center of the room, a shadow of the man I thought I knew. His eyes are wild, watching my hand that's gripping a gun I never thought I would hold, and I’m shaking—terrified of what’s happening, terrified of what I’ve done.

“Renée,” he says, his voice breaking through the silence like a razor. I can’t tell if it’s anger or desperation. Maybe both.

I don’t know what to say. I want to tell him I never meant for it to go this far, that I never wanted this, but the words are trapped inside me. I look at him, my chest aching, and I know—whatever happens now, we’re not the same people we were when we walked into this room. I am not the same person I was, and I don't think I will ever get her back.

“You knew,” he says again, his voice rough, accusing. His eyes are locked on mine, demanding an answer. “You knew what this would cost us.”

What have I done? What have we done?

I shake my head, but it’s not enough to erase the truth from his eyes. The weight of his words is crushing, pulling me under, and all I want is for this nightmare to end. But it won’t. Not now.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath, barely a sound. The words taste like ash in my mouth. I didn’t have a choice. None of us did.

His gaze flickers to the blood staining the floor, the crimson path leading toward the door, and my stomach lurches. I hadn’t wanted any of this to happen, but there’s no turning back. There’s no undoing what’s been done.

The sound of sirens pierces the air, distant but growing closer. I can’t see them, but I can feel them coming, like the weight of inevitability pressing down on me. My pulse is thundering in my ears, and I wonder if I can outrun this, if I can outrun what’s coming for us.

Alessandro steps toward me, and the gun in my hand trembles. His lips are parted, but no words come. I can feel the anger and the betrayal radiating off him, and I know that whatever happens next, it will destroy us both. He’s already lost me.

“Run,” he says, his voice cracking. “Before it’s too late.”

I want to move, to do something, anything to fix this, but I’m rooted to the spot, locked in place by fear and by love. I can’t run. Not from him, not from what’s coming. I can’t outrun this.

I shake my head, "No," My lips tremble as the word comes out.

And when I meet his eyes, I know. I know we’re both in this together, even if it kills us.

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