Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 182

Lala

国

The hum of tires still lived in her hoors. Twenty wars gone, and she could still hear . The backseat of her father’s sedan smelled of leather pold and stale perfume, her cheek pressed to the window as the desert blurred post

“You’re lucky, Lolana,” her father had said, the way people talked about lottery numbers. “Mod girls don’t get an invitation like this ”

Her mother’s nails tapped the seat back. “The Academy is opportunity, not invitation. Don’t embarrassus. Smile. Stand straight.”

Opportunity? To be bought? To be used?

She’d asked questions. Too many. About why this mattered, about what the Academy was supposed to make her. A hand darted back from the front seat, pinching the soft skin of her neck hard enough to sting. “Stop it,” her mother hissed. “You’ll ruin this.”

Her father’s voice softened like oil. “Today, you’ll meet Lucian Ronaldi. He’s the son of the very important man we spoke to at dinner. He’ll give you a tour himself Do you understand what that means? You have his attention.”

She hadn’t understood. Not then. Only that it felt like being paraded. Like her bones belonged to someone else.

The Academy gates had loomed like a palace. Inside was worse.

museum displays–beds tucked Sterile white halls, marble gleaming so perfectly it hurt her eyes. The dorms they showed her were staged like musi with military comers, desks lined with untouched notebooks. A library stretched three stories, crammed with students best over ledgers and volumes thicker than her arm. Every face had the same bungry focus, like they were being sharpened into weapons.

They passed rooms with walls of glass: one where children half her age sparred until blood spattered mats, another where teenagers traced guns in pieces faster than she could blink, another where voices recited strings of numbers and formulas in perfect unison.

Not a school. A forge.

Her mother’s hand tightened on her shoulder when she slowed, nails digging crescents into her shirt. “Smile”

Her father’s voice again, soft and proud: “Do you see, Lolana? This is where the world’s strongest are made. Where you’ll be made.”

Her throat had closed around the words she didn’t say.

I don’t want this. I don’t want to be used.

The flashback snapped

like glass underfoot.

Her body was in the present, but her chest still heaved like she’d been running for her life. The studio was gone, she was in Enzo’s suite. Nico’s steady frame moved in the quiet.

He’d carried her here–she barely remembered. Now he bent low, easing her onto the mattress like she was glass. A steaming mug of lavender tea sat waiting on the nightstand, the scent curling through the dark. Archy was tucked against her side before she even reached for him, the duck’s little Halloween onesie soll under her fingers.

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11:24 Thu, Oct 9

Chapter 182

Nico pulled the blankets up, smisthed her hals, pressed his mouth to her temple. He didn’t speak. Just clicked on the TV, letting canned laughter spill into the room as The Big Bang Theory flickered across the screen. Her comfort show. She’d told him once how hysterical it was – the science wrong in all the right ways, Sheldon’s chaos su exaggerated it louped back around to soothing

Her lips

seved faint. He remembered.

The door clicked soft when he left, leaving her with Archy, the tea, and the laugh track.

The nightmare came late.

The Academy again, but not the staged tour. Not the shine.

This time it was corridors that stank of bleach and blood. Rooms with doors locked from the outside. Faces pressed to glass, eyes hollow, endless screaming. She remembered the way the elder Ronaldi had looked at her during that walk–through–calculating, assessing, as if he could already see her future carved in bruises and obedience.

Like I was going to do terrible things. For him. For all of them.

She woke with a sob torn out of her throat, her body damp with sweat, Archy clutched so tight her fingers ached.

And Enzo was there.

He must

st have come in while she slept. Now his arms wrapped around her, crushing her against his chest. His lips pressed to her hair, her temples, her wet cheeks. He kissed every tear he could reach, murmuring rough nothings in Italian she barely understood but felt like anchors.

“Amore. Shhh. Guardami (look at me. I’ve got you, No one touches you. No one.

Her chest heaved. “It’s real,” she whispered. “It was all real. My name- She choked, “It’s not Lola. Not really. It used to be Lolana Witmore. They wanted to sell me. The did sell me. To send me there. To the Academy.”

Enzo stilled, holding her tighter. His

brushed her temple, iron and fury pressed to her skin.

She trembled. “I saw it. The dorms, the drills, the man who looked at me like–I ran before they could lock me in, but I can still feel it. The way they meant to own me. The way those halls felt.”

Enzo pulled back enough to see her face. His thumb brushed under her eye, slow, steady. “And you ran. You survived. You became Lola Marlowe. My diavoletta little devil. That’s what matters.”

Her lips trembled, words catching. But what if they find me? What if they already have?

He kissed her hard enough to cut off the spiral, his mouth fierce against hers. “They don’t get you,” he vowed, voice rough against her lips. “Not the Academy, Not Rafael. Not anyone. I’ll burn them all before I let them touch you.”

Her breath hitched, her forehead pressed to his. For the first time since the studio, she said it out loud. “I’m scared, Enzo.”

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