Chapter 147: Can I Protect You?

Milo sat still. He felt uncomfortable. Then he turned to look at Roderick properly.

"Do you think I’m cursed?" he asked.

He’d never actually thought of it that way before. He knew he saw things. He knew, sometimes, before it happened, when someone’s time was running short.

But cursed felt like a different word entirely, heavier, something with a source and a purpose behind it, not just something he simply was. He felt the danger in that word.

Roderick kept his eyes on the mansion, considering the question carefully before answering.

"It depends if it’s a gift or if someone cast a spell on you or your family. A curse can last for many generations if it’s not stopped." He glanced over briefly. "Do you think your parents had it before you?"

Milo shook his head slowly. "I don’t know. It never happened to me before. I saw it for the first time with my family. I don’t remember clearly how. But I saw it before my family died in the accident."

Roderick went quiet for a while after that, his hands on the wheel, his expression unreadable in the light from the dashboard.

"I remember the old woman said you might bring bad luck to the people around you," he said finally. "But I don’t really trust that. You were with Nero Hartley for years, and nothing happened before."

Milo turned fully toward him now, something cold settling in his stomach. "I bring bad luck?"

He was cursed and now brought bad luck? He never realized he carried such terrible things.

"It was what that old woman said to us," Roderick said quickly, glancing over at the look on Milo’s face. "But don’t believe it. I’m sure you bring some luck to people instead."

Milo looked down at his hands in his lap, saying nothing. His mind had already started running somewhere Roderick’s reassurance couldn’t reach.

He thought of his family first, the accident, the sudden emptiness that had swallowed everyone he’d loved before he was old enough to understand what had happened.

Then he thought of his uncle, the man who’d handed him over to Nero without so much as a backward glance.

He’d always told himself his uncle had done it out of greed, out of simple cruelty, the kind of ordinary selfishness that didn’t need any deeper explanation.

But what if it hadn’t been that simple? What if his uncle had sensed something wrong with him even then, some kind of danger clinging to him that made getting rid of him feel less like abandonment and more like survival?

And then there was Nero. Years spent under that man’s hands, abused in ways Milo still couldn’t fully speak about, and yet nothing bad had ever happened to Nero himself during all that time.

No accidents, no downfall, nothing at all until Salvatore had walked into his life and torn the entire empire down within weeks.

Milo felt something twist painfully in his chest. He’d spent the whole evening laughing with Franc, feeling normal, feeling like maybe he could just be a person enjoying a night out.

Now all of that lightness drained away at once, replaced by a hollow, sinking dread.

What if he was the reason things fell apart around him? What if Salvatore, despite all his power, all his men, all his careful planning, was in danger simply because Milo existed beside him?

What if Roderick’s death, the one Milo himself had sensed, was somehow his fault too?

Roderick glanced over and caught the look on his face, the sudden retreat into silence.

"Don’t think about it," he said gently. "Let’s go."

Milo just nodded, still lost somewhere deep in his own head, until he saw Salvatore walking toward them from the front steps.

Roderick smiled slightly, some of the earlier tension breaking. "Your master must be missing you so much. Let’s go."

Milo pushed his door open just as Salvatore reached the car, the man’s hand catching the door and pulling it wider before Milo could climb out on his own.

Salvatore’s face, when Milo finally looked up at it, was set in something serious, something close to anger.

"Did I tell you to stay inside?" Salvatore said, turning first to Roderick.

Then his eyes moved to Milo. "You too. You happy to make me worried?"

Milo stared up at him, and everything he’d been quietly spiraling through in the car came rushing back all at once—the old woman, the curse, the thought that maybe every bad thing that had ever happened to the people around him traced back somehow to him.

He got out of the car without a word and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms tightly around Salvatore’s waist, burying his face against his chest.

Salvatore had been fully prepared to scold them both the moment they arrived. The sudden hug caught him completely off guard, and for a second he simply stood there, his arms hovering awkwardly before settling around Milo’s back.

He felt the grip around his waist tighten further, almost desperate.

"What is it?" Salvatore asked, his voice softening slightly despite himself. "It will not change the fact that you made me scared. Do you know how many guards I asked to find you?"

"Don’t exaggerate it," Roderick cut in from beside the car, arms crossed. "I told you we went out for a movie."

"Without me," Salvatore said pointedly.

"You were busy," Roderick said, unbothered. "What did you expect? You asked me to stay inside? You forbade him from going out? We will die soon of boredom."

Salvatore exhaled hard through his nose, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but he lifted a hand and rubbed it gently through Milo’s hair anyway.

"You enjoyed your night, and you come home with that face," he said, tilting his head to try to catch Milo’s expression. "What happened?"

He shot Roderick a sharp, accusing look over Milo’s head.

"I did nothing," Roderick said, raising both hands. "Anyway, I told him everything. And maybe we can go to someone I know."

"About what?" Salvatore asked.

"His ability or his curse."

Salvatore looked down at Milo again, his tone gentler now. "Say something. You don’t want to go? Then we will not go."

Milo only tightened his hold, his voice muffled against Salvatore’s shirt. "If I remove the curse, can I protect you?"

Salvatore frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean? I don’t need your protection."

Milo said nothing back, the silence stretching long enough that Salvatore finally understood the sadness behind the question, even if he didn’t fully understand its source.

He couldn’t stand seeing Milo like this.

"You worried me," Salvatore muttered, "and now you give me that face."

Without further warning, he pushed Milo back gently, just far enough to get an arm under him, then lifted him clean off the ground and up over his shoulder. Milo yelped in surprise, both hands scrambling for something to hold onto against Salvatore’s back.

"A-ah, S-sir!"

Salvatore ignored the protest entirely and started carrying him toward the house.

"Sir, don’t touch my butt, it’s painful," Milo complained, wriggling slightly against his shoulder.

"You went out all day without pain," Salvatore said dryly, "and suddenly you feel pain just because I touch you."

He kept walking, Milo still squirming and complaining above him, but before he reached the base of the stairs, Roderick’s voice stopped him.

"I don’t want to interfere," Roderick said, "but I need to go home now. Tomorrow, give me your decision about whether we go or not. I don’t have a lot of time."

Salvatore turned, Milo still balanced over his shoulder, and studied his old friend for a moment.

"I lost Macron," he said finally. "I don’t have anything to do, and I will be mad all day at home. We go tomorrow morning. Prepare everything."

Roderick raised an eyebrow. "Well..."

"It means you better sleep here," Salvatore added before he could finish. "I will not let you go home tonight."

Roderick sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. "Fine."

Teo came barreling around the corner, his bare feet slapping against the floor, and skidded to a stop when he spotted Milo dangling over Salvatore’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Milo! You are home!"

Milo twisted, trying to push himself upright enough to get down, but Salvatore’s arm only tightened around his legs, keeping him firmly in place.

Salvatore turned toward the boy, one eyebrow raised. "What time is it? You shouldn’t stay awake at this hour."

"I was waiting for Milo," Teo said simply, as though that explained everything.

"He is home now and in pain," Salvatore said. "Better you go to your room."

Teo’s eyes went round immediately. "Pain? Why?"

Salvatore mentally cursed himself the second the words left his mouth. He’d meant it as a way to send the boy off to bed, but instead Teo’s whole small face had gone tight with worry, any thought of sleep clearly abandoned.

"No," Salvatore said quickly. "Get to your room."

"I will bring the box!" Teo announced, already turning and sprinting off down the hallway before anyone could stop him.

"Teo!" Salvatore called after him, but the boy was already gone, his footsteps fading fast around the corner.

Salvatore sighed heavily, shifting Milo’s weight against his shoulder. "See what you started."

"I didn’t say anything!" Milo protested, still upside down.

Salvatore gave up on heading to his own room and carried Milo instead to his, setting him down carefully on the edge of the bed just as Teo came racing back in, clutching a first aid box against his chest, slightly out of breath.

The boy climbed straight up onto the mattress and settled himself beside Milo, the box balanced on his knees, watching him with intense concentration, clearly ready to spring into action the moment he was needed.

He crouched down in front of Milo, studying him carefully. "Which part is painful?" he asked.

Milo looked between the two of them, Salvatore’s annoyed expression and Teo’s earnest, worried little face, and felt something in his chest loosen slightly despite everything still weighing on his mind. He grinned, shaking his head.

"No, I’m fine, Teo," he said. "I just need to sleep."