The car ride home was quiet.
Not tense.
Not angry.
Just quiet in a way that felt irreversible.
Dante drove. Izana sat in the back seat, wrists tightly restrained — not because he had fought, but because they couldn't take the risk. Blood had dried faintly at the corner of his mouth. His breathing was steady now, but too controlled.
The curse had withdrawn.
Not gone.
Just waiting.
The mansion gates opened without question.
Elias was already standing at the front entrance when the car pulled in. He didn't look surprised. He didn't ask for details.
He only looked at Izana through the tinted windows.
"It surged," he said calmly.
Dante nodded once. "Fully."
Elias exhaled through his nose. "He needs the bunker."
There was no argument.
Izana stepped out of the car on his own.
He didn't look at the house.
He didn't look at the sky.
He only walked.
Dante and Elias followed him across the garden path in silence. No one tried to stop him. No one tried to comfort him.
Comfort wasn't what this was.
This was containment.
When they reached the small concrete structure, Dante removed the restraints from Izana's wrists. The metal fell away without resistance.
Izana flexed his fingers once.
"I understand," he said quietly.
Elias studied him carefully. "This is temporary."
Izana gave the faintest nod.
He stepped inside.
No hesitation.
Dante lingered at the doorway for half a second longer than necessary.
"If it spikes again," he said, voice low, "don't try to handle it alone."
Izana almost smiled.
"I won't."
The steel door closed.
The lock engaged with a heavy finality.
And just like that—
The Boss of an empire was sealed away in his own garden.
Inside, the silence pressed in.
Izana stood still for a long moment after the door shut.
Then his composure fractured.
His hand slammed against the wall once — not hard enough to break bone, just hard enough to feel something real.
He saw it again.
Leah stepping toward him.
Her arms reaching for him.
Her voice telling him to look at her.
And then—
The shift.
The way his vision had sharpened.
The way her heartbeat had sounded louder than anything else.
Prey.
His stomach twisted violently.
A cough tore from his chest. He braced himself against the wall, blood staining his palm when he pulled it away.
The curse had fully awakened tonight.
And it had almost taken her from him.
Not by killing her.
But by turning him into something she would never be able to look at the same way again.
He slid down to sit on the floor.
For the first time in years—
Izana felt afraid.
Not of dying.
Of living like this.
The front gates opened again nearly forty minutes later.
Leah's car pulled in fast.
Too fast.
She barely waited for it to stop before stepping out.
Elias was still near the entrance.
Her eyes searched past him immediately.
"Where is he?"
"He's stable."
"That's not what I asked."
Elias didn't block her when she walked past him.
"He's in the garden."
Her steps faltered only slightly.
The garden lights illuminated the pathway softly, the night deceptively peaceful. Nothing about the mansion suggested chaos had happened hours ago.
But she knew better.
When she saw the steel door at the edge of the garden, her chest tightened.
She stopped in front of it.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Cold.
Distorted.
"He's inside?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"As long as necessary."
Her jaw clenched.
"He almost killed someone tonight," Elias said calmly, not unkindly. "We cannot risk a second surge."
"He almost killed me," she corrected softly.
Elias didn't respond.
Leah stepped closer.
Her hand lifted slowly.
She pressed her palm against the steel door.
It was cool beneath her skin.
Solid.
Unmoving.
"You locked him away like he's a threat."
Elias' voice was steady. "He is."
The words hung in the air.
Her fingers curled slightly.
"Not to me."
"You can't say that with certainty."
She closed her eyes briefly.
Inside, beyond that steel—
He was alone.
Again.
The curse had taken enough from him already.
It had taken his father's body.
It had taken his mother's life.
It had taken his sleep.
It had taken his peace.
And now it was taking his freedom.
Her forehead rested lightly against the door.
"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered.
Inside, Izana froze.
He couldn't hear her words clearly.
But he felt her presence.
Close.
Too close.
His hand lifted slowly and pressed against the door from the inside.
Metal separated them.
For a second—
He considered unlocking it.
Seeing her.
Making sure she was real.
But the memory flashed again—
Her pulse.
Her warmth.
The way his instincts had sharpened.
He stepped back immediately.
No.
Not yet.
He wouldn't risk it.
He wouldn't risk her.
Outside, Leah opened her eyes.
"I know you can hear me," she said softly.
No response.
But she didn't leave.
"I'm not angry at you."
Silence.
"I'm angry at whatever is hurting you."
The night breeze moved through the hedges.
Still nothing.
Her voice trembled just slightly.
"You don't get to decide alone that I'm safer without you."
Inside, Izana's jaw tightened.
Every word reached him like a blade.
Because she was wrong.
She was safer without him.
He had seen it tonight.
Felt it.
If Dante hadn't intervened—
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Another cough rose violently from his chest. He turned away from the door this time, bracing himself against the wall as blood stained the floor again.
The curse pulsed faintly beneath his skin.
Not raging.
Just present.
A reminder.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
And forced himself to stay silent.
Because if he spoke—
If he heard her voice break—
He might open the door.
And he couldn't risk what would happen if he did.
Outside, Leah slowly slid down until she was sitting against the steel door.
Separated by inches.
By metal.
By fear.
"I'm not leaving," she said quietly.
Behind her, the mansion stood tall and composed.
Warm lights glowing through tall windows.
The world still turning as if nothing had changed.
But in the garden—
A don had locked himself away.
And the girl he loved sat on the other side of the door—
Refusing to move.
Inside the bunker, Izana stared at the wall in front of him.
He could feel her there.
Steady.
Stubborn.
Unwavering.
His hand lifted slightly—
Then dropped back to his side.
He would endure this.
He would control it.
He would chain himself before he ever let it touch her again.
Even if it meant distancing himself.
Even if it meant she hated him for it.
The steel door stood between them.
Unyielding.
And neither of them moved.
Not that night.