**Noah’s POV**

I stared at the guy, Stan, sitting close to me on the school steps, his smile easy but sharp, like he was studying me. He didn’t say anything, just leaned back, his hands in his pockets, watching me finish the sandwich he’d given me. My stomach was full for the first time all day, but I still felt uneasy, like his kindness came with a price I didn’t understand. Enzo’s rules echoed in my head: *Don’t get comfortable with anyone.* Was I already breaking them?

Stan stood, brushing off his jeans. “Gotta go,” he said, his voice light. “Got another class. Hope we run into each other again, Noah.”

I looked up, my hands still holding the empty sandwich wrapper. “Wait,” I said, my voice soft. “Thanks for the sandwich. Really. I… I didn’t have anything.”

He grinned, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. “No problem, man,” he said. “You looked like you needed it. Take care, alright?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, nodding. “You too.”

He walked away, his steps easy, like he didn’t have a care in the world. I watched him go, my chest tight. Why was everyone so nice today? First James, now this guy. It didn’t make sense, not when my life was falling apart. I crumpled the wrapper, tossing it into a nearby trash can, and leaned back against the steps, wishing I could disappear.

School dragged on, and when the final bell rang, I felt heavier than ever. Ren was waiting outside in the black limo, his scarred face blank as I climbed in. The ride back to Enzo’s house was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the silence. I stared out the window, my mind stuck on one question: Why me? Why did my dad sell me? Why did Enzo want me here? None of it made sense.

“You okay?” Ren asked, his voice breaking the silence. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror, confused. Did he just ask me that? His face was still cold, but his eyes were softer, like he meant it.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, my voice shaky. “I’m fine.”

He chuckled, a low sound that surprised me. “You don’t look fine,” he said. “I know I come off cold, Noah. Everyone thinks that. But I’m not heartless. I see you’re struggling.”

I blinked, my hands clenching in my lap. “Then tell me why,” I said, my voice louder than I meant. “Why’s Enzo keeping me here? What does he want? Why am I stuck in this house like some prisoner?”

Ren’s eyes met mine in the mirror, steady and unreadable. “It’s not what it seems,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll understand eventually. But I’m not the one to tell you anything.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his look shut me up. I nodded, turning back to the window, acting like I hadn’t heard him. What was the point? No one told me anything. Not Enzo, not Ren. I was just a pawn, stuck in a game I didn’t understand.

We pulled up to the house, and I got out, my legs heavy. Enzo was at the front door, his eyes locked on me, dark and intense. My blood ran cold, and I froze, my heart racing. I wanted to run, but where? There was nowhere to go. I forced myself to move closer, my sneakers scuffing the gravel. Enzo nodded at Ren, who walked inside without a word, leaving me alone with him.

Enzo stepped toward me, slow, like a predator. I backed up a step, my heart pounding, but he just kept coming. His hand lifted, and I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut, bracing for a hit. But instead, his fingers brushed my hair, soft and warm. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost gentle.

I opened my eyes, confused, and nodded. “Yeah,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m… I’m fine.”

He smiled, a small, strange smile that didn’t match his usual cold stare. “Good,” he said, his hand lingering for a second before dropping. “Come on.” He turned, leading me inside, and I followed, my head spinning. What was wrong with him today?

He sat me down at the dining table, not my room—a first. The table was huge, dark wood, with plates of food already set out: chicken, rice, vegetables, steaming and smelling better than anything I’d had in weeks. Enzo sat across from me, his eyes on me as a maid set a plate in front of me. “Eat,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You need it.”

I picked up my fork, my hands shaking, and took a bite, the chicken tender and warm. I ate slowly, watching him from the corner of my eye. Why was he being nice? Yesterday, he was yelling, grabbing my neck. Now he was feeding me like I mattered. “Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice quiet. “Why am I here, Enzo?”

He looked at me, his smile fading. “Just eat, Noah,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t ask questions.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “But I don’t get it,” I said, setting my fork down. “You keep me here, make me clean, send me to school, but you don’t tell me anything. Why? What do you want from me?”

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “I said eat,” he said, his voice sharper now. “You don’t need to know. Not yet.”

I wanted to argue, but his look stopped me. I nodded, picking up my fork again, and ate in silence. Then, out of nowhere, he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice so quiet I almost missed it.

I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. “What?” I asked, confused. “Sorry for what?”

He looked away, his jaw tight. “I’m sorry,” he said again, louder this time. “For yelling at you. About Dean. I… I shouldn’t have.”

I stared at him, my heart racing. Was this real? Enzo, apologizing? I opened my mouth to say something, but he stood, moving around the table toward me. His hand cupped my face, tilting it up, and before I could react, his lips brushed mine, soft and quick. I gasped, my eyes wide, as he pulled back, his face unreadable. Then he turned and walked away, leaving me alone at the table.

I sat there, my fingers touching my lips, my head spinning. Was that a dream? It had to be. Enzo didn’t do things like that. But my lips tingled, and my heart wouldn’t stop racing. I stared at the empty doorway, wondering if I’d ever understand him.