Marked by his sin
The answer was too smooth and firm, like there was no room to negotiate.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said, anger creeping into my voice.
“I don’t,” Luca agreed evenly. “But I do get to enforce it.”
I studied him then—really looked into his eyes and read his movement. There was no hunger in his gaze, no curiosity like Dante’s. It was just control. Structure. Loyalty.
“You must really enjoy this,” I said quietly, giving up.
“Enjoyment doesn't seem like the right word to use. You just don't get it, do you?”
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