Chapter 16: The Confession Room
Chapter 16: The Confession Room
Elio's POV
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There's a room in the villa no one talks about.
No guards stationed outside. No locks. Just a plain black door with nothing behind it but everything Luca's never said.
I didn't even know it existed — not until that night.
The night I asked him the wrong question.
"Who was the first man you killed for fun?"
He went still.
We were in the lounge. Dim lights, crystal decanter between us, both half-dressed and tangled from hours of teasing touches that never turned into more.
His hand tightened around the glass.
"Elio," he said quietly. "Don't ask me that."
"Why not?"
"Because I want you to love me."
"I do."
"Then don't look at that part of me."
But I couldn't let it go.
I needed to see the full shape of the man I was falling into.
Not just the lover.
Not just the monster.
But the truth.
So I pressed.
And he snapped.
---
The door slammed behind me before I even saw the space.
The room was empty. No windows. No furniture.
Just red walls.
Dark red. Like dried blood.
And the soundproofing was padded.
Like a coffin.
He stood in front of me. Hands shaking.
"I haven't brought anyone here in five years."
I swallowed. "Why not?"
"Because this is where I go when I stop being human."
He walked to a far wall.
Touched it like a priest touches an altar.
Then turned to me.
"You want to know who I am?"
"Yes."
"Then listen."
---
He told me about the man who trafficked children out of an orphanage in Naples — the same one we ran from.
He told me how he slit his throat in front of a mirror.
And made him watch himself die.
He told me about the first traitor in his own family. How he pulled out his tongue for whispering secrets.
Then burned his eyes out.
He told me about the woman who lied to him about love — and how he loved her while choking her.
I stood still.
I didn't flinch.
Not even when he said my name next.
"Elio," he whispered. "I've imagined hurting you in a hundred ways."
"I know."
"I've fought the urge to break you just to see if you'd still crawl back."
"I'd crawl."
"Even if I put a knife to your throat?"
"Even then."
His eyes turned wild.
He was unraveling.
This room was devouring him.
And I was letting it happen.
I stepped forward.
Touched his chest — where the monster lived.
"I don't want you to hide this part of yourself," I said. "I want to hold it."
"No one holds me."
"I do."
His breathing fractured.
He backed up until his spine hit the red wall.
"I've done things that would make God weep."
"I'm not God."
He grabbed my arms. Tight. Bruising.
"You're not afraid?"
"I'm yours."
He kissed me like punishment.
Bit my lower lip until I tasted blood.
Then he dropped to his knees.
And pressed his forehead to my stomach.
"You are the only thing I haven't ruined."
"You already have," I whispered. "And I loved you anyway."
---
Later, we lay on the padded floor. Our bodies tangled in silence.
No sex.
Just exhaustion. Truth.
Maybe even peace.
The kind of peace that comes after you burn everything else to the ground.
"I never wanted a lover," he said.
"I never wanted a king."
"But you got one."
"And you got a toy who talks back."
His laugh was hoarse. Broken.
"You shouldn't forgive me," he said.
"Then give me another reason to stay."
He rolled over.
Looked at me like I was the last light in a burning church.
And whispered:
"I'll kill the whole world for you, Elio."
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