Fina's POV

The silence in the room was suffocating. My heart pounded in my chest, every beat echoing in my ears as I stood frozen behind Enzo. His hand was still on my back, steady and warm, but it wasn't enough to stop the tremble in my legs.

I felt their eyes on me again. My brothers. Strangers who knew me, who claimed to care for me, but I couldn't make myself meet their gazes.

"Fina," Dante said softly. His voice was calm, but there was something in it—something raw. Guilt, maybe. Pain. "You don't have to be scared."

I pressed closer to Enzo, my body refusing to believe those words. I didn't know how not to be scared. It was all I'd known for so long.

"She just needs time," Enzo said, his tone firm. "Back off."

The room was quiet again, the tension thick enough to choke on.

I could hear movement—someone stepping closer. My entire body tensed, and I gripped Enzo's jacket tighter, my knuckles turning white.

"Fina." It was Matteo this time, his voice low and careful, like he was afraid to startle me. "It's okay. No one's going to hurt you here. I swear it."

I peeked out from behind Enzo, just enough to see Marco's face. He was crouched slightly, his hands at his sides to show he wasn't a threat. His dark eyes were serious, but they didn't feel as heavy as the others'.

Still, I flinched when he reached out, his hand stopping mid-air when he noticed. He let it drop, sighing softly. "Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to scare you."

My chest tightened, the lump in my throat growing. I hated how weak I felt, how small. I hated that I couldn't even handle a kind gesture without falling apart.

"Don't push her, Matteo," Dante said sharply, his tone cutting through the quiet.

Mattheo gave him a sharp look but didn't argue. Instead, he straightened and took a step back, giving me space.

"Let's get her upstairs," Enzo said. His hand shifted on my back, guiding me toward the staircase. "She's exhausted."

The thought of being alone with Enzo, away from their stares, was enough to get my feet moving. I stayed close to him, my fingers still clutching his jacket as we passed by the others.

The tension was thick as we moved. I could feel it in the way their eyes followed me, their silence heavy with unspoken questions.

"She's safe now," I heard Dante say behind us, his voice low but fierce. "That's all that matters."

I wanted to believe him.

I wanted to believe that this house was a haven, that these men—my brothers—were the family I'd lost so long ago. But it was hard.

Too hard.

Enzo led me to a large bedroom on the second floor. It was nothing like the cramped, suffocating space I'd been forced to live in for years. The bed was enormous, covered in soft, dark sheets. The windows were tall and clean, letting in the faint glow of the city lights.

"This is yours," Enzo said, his voice breaking through my thoughts.

I stared at the room, unable to move. It was too much—too big, too nice. I didn't belong here.

"It's just a room," Enzo said, as if reading my mind. He crouched slightly to meet my eyes, his tone soft but firm. "No one's asking you to do anything. Just rest. That's all we want."

I looked at him, searching his face for any hint of deception, but there was none. Just quiet sincerity.

I nodded slowly, stepping further into the room. My feet felt heavy, like every step was a battle against the part of me that wanted to run, to hide.

Enzo didn't follow me in. He stayed by the door, watching me carefully. "I'll be just down the hall if you need anything."

I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper. "Will... will they leave me alone?"

He nodded. "They won't bother you unless you want them to. I promise."

I nodded again, my fingers brushing against the edge of the bed. The fabric was soft under my fingertips, and for a moment, I felt like I might cry.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice cracking.

Enzo gave me a small smile, the kind that didn't feel forced or fake. "You don't have to thank me, Fina. You're family."

Family.

The word felt foreign, distant.

But as Enzo stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, I let myself sink onto the bed. For the first time in years, I felt something unfamiliar.

Hope.

The door clicked shut softly, leaving me alone in the silence of the room. For a moment, I just sat there, perched on the edge of the bed, unsure what to do. My hands trembled as I smoothed the soft fabric of the blanket beneath me, the sensation unfamiliar. Everything about this room felt wrong—like it belonged to someone else. Someone who wasn't broken.

I glanced toward the door, half-expecting it to fly open, for the shouting to start. My body remained tense, my shoulders hunched like I was bracing for a blow that wouldn't come.

It was too quiet.

The quiet was worse than the noise sometimes. It left too much space for my thoughts to creep in, for the memories to replay in vivid detail. Gary's voice echoed in my mind, sharp and cruel, telling me I was nothing. That no one would ever want me.

I dug my nails into the palm of my hand, forcing the thoughts away.

The room was too big, the bed too soft. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't pretend this was my life now.

I stood up quickly, my legs shaky beneath me as I moved toward the corner of the room. It felt safer there, pressed against the wall where I could see everything. I slid down to the floor, curling into myself, my knees pulled tight to my chest.

The minutes dragged on. I didn't know how long I sat there, staring at the door, waiting for something to happen. For someone to burst in and remind me that this was all a cruel trick.

But no one came.

Instead, the muffled sound of voices drifted through the walls. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I recognized Enzo's voice, calm and steady. And Dante's, sharp and commanding. They were talking about me—I could feel it.

The thought made my stomach twist.

What did they see when they looked at me now? Did they see the little sister they'd lost, or did they see the mess I'd become?

I pressed my forehead against my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think at all.

But the door creaked open, and my head shot up, my body tensing instinctively.

It was Enzo. He stepped inside slowly, his hands in his pockets, his expression careful. He didn't look surprised to find me on the floor, though his eyes softened as they landed on me.

"I thought you might be hungry," he said, holding up a plate. "I brought you something to eat."

I didn't respond, my gaze darting to the plate and then back to him. He didn't come closer, didn't try to force me. Instead, he set the plate down on the bedside table and crouched down near the door.

"I know this is a lot," he said quietly, his voice low and steady. "But you don't have to do it alone, Fina. We're here. I'm here."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. His words should have felt comforting, but they only made me feel more overwhelmed. I didn't know how to believe them.

Enzo didn't push. He just stayed there, sitting on the floor, giving me space but not leaving me alone.

"You don't have to come out of that corner if you're not ready," he said after a long pause. "But when you are, the food's here. And so am I."

He stayed for a while, quiet and patient, until the tension in my chest began to loosen—just a little.

Eventually, he stood, giving me one last reassuring look before stepping out of the room. The door clicked shut softly behind him, and I was alone again.

I stared at the plate on the table. It wasn't much—just a sandwich and a bottle of water—but the sight of it made my stomach rumble.

I uncurled myself slowly, my body stiff and reluctant, and crawled toward the bed. The plate felt heavy in my hands, but I forced myself to take a bite.

The food was simple, but it was the best thing I'd tasted in years.

As I ate, something shifted in my chest. It wasn't big, just a tiny crack in the walls I'd built around myself. But it was enough to let in a sliver of light.

Maybe, just maybe, I could let myself hope again.