This is something else entirely.
Giovanni leans closer, his mouth brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear.
And then he explains. "Let me be clear, little one." His voice drops even lower, rough with something that sounds almost like desperation. "You are mine. Forever. No matter what you choose right now."
I'm not breathing.
Can't breathe.
Can't process the weight offorevercoming from a man who kills people who threaten what's his.
"It is notyouI will kill if you say no to this arrangement."
His lips graze my pulse point.
"It's Jino."
The world tilts.
Everything I thought I understood about this situation—about the training, the protocol, the careful negotiation of boundaries—it all reshapes itself into something infinitely more dangerous.
This isn't a game.
This isn't even about control or submission or whatever psychological architecture Jino was building in that basement.
This is Giovanni Bavga telling me that my freedom—mychoice—comes with a body count.
That if I say no, if I take the key, and the money, and the plane ticket to anywhere else, he will murder his own cousin. The man who just spent hours teaching me how to kneel properly. Who bathed me with unexpected gentleness. Who promised to show me how to be happy in the dungeon.
Dead.
Because of me.
My fingers are trembling against Giovanni's shoulders.
"You're..." I can barely form words. I keep them soft on purpose. "You're saying if I leave, you'll kill Jino?"
"Yes."
No hesitation. No remorse. Just flat, factual certainty.
"You’re now under my protection. From this day until your last, you will be safe because I’ll keep you that way. No matter the distance between us."
I stare at him, searching his face for any sign that this is another test, another manipulation, another layer of whatever sick game they're playing.
But Giovanni's eyes are clear. Honest in a way that makes me ache.
He means it.
Every word.
He will kill for me.
Again.
Over and over, if that's what it takes.
Because I amhis.