𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛

45

Salvatore sat at the edge of the bed, his massive form cloaked in shadows as he watched Kailani from across the room as she sat at her vanity, fixing her long curls.

He stood abruptly, the sudden movement making her flinch slightly. He walked over to the nightstand, grabbing the whiteboard in one swift motion. His hand moved quickly, the sound of the marker scratching against the surface cutting through the quiet. When he was done, he turned it around.

Pack your things. We’re leaving.

Kailani stared at the words, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Leaving?” Her voice was soft, hesitant, as she tried to wrap her mind around the sudden demand. She hadn’t left his mansion in what felt like forever—months of isolation with only him to rely on. The thought of leaving now sent a shockwave through her, equal parts anxiety and curiosity.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice shaky, though she already knew the answer would be the same as always.

Salvatore said nothing. His dark eyes just locked onto hers, unyielding, as he tilted his head toward the closet. A silent order, one she knew better than to disobey. With a resigned sigh, she stood up and slowly made her way toward the closet, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulled open the doors. Her eyes drifted over the rows of clothes he had chosen for her—silk dresses, soft sweaters, all in soft, muted colors. She didn’t know what to bring or why they were leaving so suddenly.

“Do I need warm clothes?” she asked, her voice almost pleading for any sort of hint. The question felt pointless, but she couldn’t help herself.

He remained silent, his expression hard and unreadable. He strode past her, yanking a few dresses off the hangers, tossing them onto the bed with rough, swift movements. His silence was infuriating, and his refusal to answer only heightened the knot of fear and frustration building in her chest.

“Salvatore,” she tried again, her tone a bit sharper this time, “I need to know what to pack. Are we coming back here?”

Still nothing. His hands moved with efficient precision, packing the big suitcase without a word. The only sounds in the room were the occasional rustle of fabric and the smooth zip of the suitcase as he closed it. He grabbed her shoes from the bottom of the closet, throwing them into the case without looking at her, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

Kailani bit her lip, swallowing the growing frustration in her throat. She hated this—being left in the dark, always wondering what he was thinking, where he was taking her, what was next. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly as she clutched a small pouch of her belongings to her chest. “Why now?”

Salvatore paused, his back to her as if considering her words. He stood still for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Then, without so much as a glance her way, he zipped the second suitcase, set it by the door, and grabbed the whiteboard again.

Ask less, pack more.

The words were like a punch to the gut, making her stomach churn with irritation. She stared at him, incredulous, her hands trembling as she shoved a few more things into the bag. “Fine,” she muttered under her breath, turning away from him as she packed her things more hastily.

Salvatore’s shadow loomed over her, his presence a constant reminder that he was always in control. Always watching. Always silent. He grabbed the last of her things and handed them to her, his touch firm yet impersonal, as if to say let’s go.

There was a knock at the door. Kailani’s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced toward the entrance, her anxiety spiking. Salvatore walked over and opened it to reveal a tall, sharply dressed man in a sleek black suit. His head was bowed slightly, and the tension in the air shifted immediately.

“Capo,” the driver said in a low, respectful tone, nodding at Salvatore before casting a quick glance at Kailani. The man’s face remained impassive, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, but the way he carried himself made it clear—he was there to serve Salvatore.

Salvatore didn’t respond verbally, merely giving a single nod before turning his attention back to Kailani. With one last lingering look at her, he gestured toward the door, his hand hovering at the small of her back in that familiar way—possessive, controlling, yet careful not to touch her directly. It was a warning and a command all at once.

With her heart pounding, Kailani passed the suitcase handle to the strange man and followed him out of the room, her steps hesitant as they made their way through the mansion’s long hallways. Every corner they turned felt like a step into the unknown, and despite her frustration with him, she stayed close to Salvatore, clinging to the only sense of safety she had ever known in these walls.

When they reached the entrance, the heavy wooden doors opened to reveal the sleek, black sedan parked out front. The glossy car gleamed under the dim lights, its ominous presence only enhanced by the line of other black vehicles parked behind it, all filled with bodyguards. They stood silently next to their cars, dressed in matching black suits, their expressions neutral but alert.

The driver opened the door to the sedan, bowing slightly. “Capo,” he repeated with the same deference as before, stepping aside to allow Salvatore to lead Kailani inside.

Salvatore entered first, his hand reaching back to pull her into the car beside him, the weight of his palm finally landing on her lower back as he helped her into the seat. The moment she settled next to him, the door shut with a quiet click, sealing them in the luxurious leather interior of the car.

Kailani glanced out the window as the driver started the engine. The world outside felt distant, unfamiliar, and as the car pulled away from the cabin, the black vehicles followed behind them in a coordinated convoy. The bodyguards were a silent force, their presence heavy, like shadows keeping watch over the two of them.

She turned to Salvatore, her anxiety bubbling over as the car moved faster, heading into the dark unknown. “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though the frustration in it was clear.

Salvatore didn’t look at her, didn’t even acknowledge the question. Instead, he lifted his hand to her knee, gripping it with that familiar possessiveness, his fingers pressing lightly into her skin, offering neither comfort nor explanation—just control.

Kailani’s breath hitched at his touch, the electric sensation that always came with his proximity flooding through her. She wanted to ask more, wanted to fight back, but the words stuck in her throat. In his silence, he had already said everything.

The black cars followed closely behind, their headlights cutting through the darkness, a constant reminder that she was never alone—not really. As the car sped down the road, the night swallowing them whole, Kailani knew that wherever they were going, she had no choice but to follow him into the unknown.