The Mafia's Rose

A Voice in the Dark

Illyana’s POV

I stood there, my back pressed against the rough brick, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. The adrenaline that had fuelled my flight was fading, leaving me shaky and breathless. I watched as Alessandro turned, his gaze sweeping the street one last time before settling on me.

His eyes, usually so intense, were filled with a concern that made my chest ache. He closed the distance between us in a few long strides, his hands reaching out as if to touch me, but stopping short.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice rough with concern, the Italian accent more pronounced than I remembered.

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. My voice seemed to have disappeared, along with my usual bravado. All I could do was stare at him, my mind struggling to reconcile the menacing figure from the waiting room with the man who had just saved me from a very bad situation.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out again, this time gently touching my arm. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through me, a strange mix of comfort and fear.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"No," I finally managed, my voice a shaky whisper. "No, I'm okay."

He held my gaze for a long moment, his blue eyes searching mine as if trying to read my thoughts. I felt a blush creep up my neck under his scrutiny, my skin tingling where he was still touching me.

"What were you doing in this neighbourhood?" I asked, my voice gaining a bit of its usual strength. It was a stupid question, I realized, as soon as the words left my mouth. This was Rome, after all, a city of millions. He could be living just around the corner for all I knew.

But instead of dismissing my question, he hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly.

"I saw you leave the hospital," he said finally, his voice low. "I was worried."

My breath caught in my throat. He was worried? About me? The thought was absurd, impossible, and yet… there was something in his eyes, a sincerity that belied his gruff exterior.

"You didn't have to follow me," I said, trying to sound casual, even as my heart did a somersault in my chest.

"I know," he said, his gaze never leaving mine. "But I couldn't let you walk home alone."

There was a beat of silence, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. I felt a strange pull towards him, a desire to close the distance, to feel the warmth of his touch again. It was a dangerous impulse, I knew, but one I couldn't seem to resist.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the sounds of the city. "For helping me."

He nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. It was the first time I'd seen him smile, and it transformed his face, erasing the hard lines, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the guarded exterior.

"Come on," he said, his voice softening. "I'll walk you home."

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to keep my distance, to run as fast as I could in the opposite direction. But something about him, about the way he looked at me, made me feel safe, protected. And right now, after the terror of the attack, that feeling was more intoxicating than any danger he might represent.

"Okay," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

And so, we walked. Side by side, our steps echoing on the empty sidewalk. The silence between us was no longer awkward, but comfortable, filled with a strange sense of intimacy. I stole glances at him as we walked, taking in the way the streetlights cast shadows across his face, the way his hands brushed against mine with every step.

He didn't speak, and neither did I. But as we neared my building, a wave of disappointment washed over me. I didn't want this night to end, didn't want to say goodbye to the man who had, in the space of a few short hours, gone from a brooding stranger to my unlikely saviour.

He stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to my building, his gaze meeting mine.

"This is me," I said, my voice sounding oddly small.

He nodded, his eyes searching mine. "I know," he said softly. "I'll wait until you're safely inside."

I wanted to argue, to tell him it wasn't necessary, that I could take care of myself. But the truth was, I didn't want him to leave. Not yet.

So, I simply nodded, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I climbed the steps, my hand trailing along the rough brick wall, my senses on high alert. I could feel his eyes on me, a tangible weight on my back, and it sent a shiver down my spine. But it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. It felt… protective.

As I reached my door, I turned back to face him. He stood on the sidewalk, his silhouette framed by the dim streetlight, his gaze never leaving me.

"Thank you," I said again, the words inadequate, but heartfelt. "For tonight."

He nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Sleep well, Illyana," he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to wrap around me like a caress.

And then, without another word, he turned and walked away, melting into the shadows with the ease of a phantom.

I stood there for a long moment, watching him go, my heart a confusing mix of relief and disappointment. I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking, and finally managed to unlock the door.

I know… I'll wait until you're safely inside. His words echoed in the sudden silence. Wait. How did he know this was my building? Had he followed me before? The thought sent a fresh wave of chills down my spine, a prickle of unease that battled with the warmth his presence had ignited.

Stepping inside my tiny apartment, I leaned against the door, my heart still racing. The silence was deafening after the encounter on the street, the air thick with Alessandro’s absence. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to have seeped into my bones, but it wasn't just the cold night air that had me shivering.

It was him. Alessandro.

The man was an enigma, a walking contradiction. One minute he was aloof and menacing, the next he was saving me from a mugging and walking me home like a knight in shining armour. I couldn't figure him out, couldn't reconcile the different versions of him I'd seen.

And yet… there was something about him, something in his eyes, that drew me to him, that made me want to believe there was more to him than the dangerous aura he cultivated.

I sighed, pushing the thoughts away. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally drained. This had been the longest, strangest night of my life, and all I wanted was to crawl into bed and forget any of it had ever happened.

But as I drifted off to sleep, the image of Alessandro’s face, illuminated by the dim streetlight, his blue eyes filled with concern, lingered in my mind. And for the first time since moving to Rome, I didn't feel so alone. But the question lingered, twisting in my gut: how had he known this was my home?