Coban's POV:

The weights felt different in my hands. Heavier, maybe, but not because of the steel. Because of the damn words still sitting on my tongue.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

I’d said them. Out loud.

And the second they left my mouth, I wanted to reel them back in, shove them into the pit where all my other regrets rotted. I never apologized. Not once in my life. Apologies were weakness, a hole for someone else to shove their knife through. But with her standing there with those wide, wet eyes, her voice shaking when she still said she forgave me, I couldn't stop it.

Now, standing at the rack, gripping the cold barbell, all I could think about was how tiny her neck had felt under my hands when I pinned her down this morning. Too easy. Breakable. The memory made my jaw grind as I yanked the bar off and dropped into my first rep.

"Christ, Santo," Leo muttered from beside me, curling dumbbells like they were toys. "Never thought I'd see the day you bent your neck like that."

"Shut it," I growled, pressing the bar up, my chest burning.

But he didn’t shut it. He never did.

"I mean it, man," he said, his tone lower this time, eyes darting to the far corner where Cara and Margot sat close, whispering like birds. "What the hell's going on with you? You put your hands on her throat and then a few hours later you're apologizing in front of everyone? That's not the Coban Santo I know."

I racked the bar and sat up, sweat slicking my temples. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think, huh."

Leo smirked, like he'd been waiting for that. "Nah. I know you better than anyone. You're a ticking time bomb who doesn't care if the shrapnel takes out everyone in a ten-foot radius. And now? Suddenly you care. About her."

The muscle in my jaw jumped. He was right, but I wasn’t about to hand him that win. "It was a mistake. I lost control. I'm not saying it again, but she deserved an apology."

"Yeah, you did say it," Leo countered smoothly. He leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees, voice dropping even lower now. "And don't act like it didn't matter. I saw your face, bro. You meant it. That's new."

My fists curled, nails biting into my palms. "Drop it."

"Do you wanna get out of this hell hole or not?"

That question stopped me cold. Because yeah, I did. More than anything. Freedom wasn’t just a dream for me, it was survival. The chance to finally bury the ghosts of everything I’d done before these walls closed in on me. But Leo was right, too – every mistake I made with her was one step closer to losing that chance.

"You think the suits are gonna overlook something like that?" Leo pressed. "You strangle your project girl, even by accident? That's not a slap on the wrist, Santo. That's disqualification. That's solitary. That's the rest of your damn life rotting here while the rest of us walk free."

The weight of it hit me harder than the barbell.

I dragged a hand over my face, forcing my breathing even. "I didn't mean it to happen."

"Doesn't matter." Leo's voice sharpened. "Perception is what matters. To them? You're an unstable bastard who can't be trusted around a girl. And that'll kill your shot at this faster than anything."

I hated that he was right. I hated even more that Margot's face flashed in my head again – her lips parting when I said sorry, like I'd ripped the air straight out of her lungs. She believed me. She forgave me. That was my one saving grace.

"She forgave me," I muttered under my breath.

Leo scoffed. "Yeah, because she's soft. That's her nature. Doesn't mean the rest of the world will." He leaned back, lowering his weights to the floor with a soft thud. "Listen, you've got two options here. You play it smart, keep your temper on a leash, and prove you can do this. Or..." His gaze hardened. "You screw it up again, and you’re finished. Done. You’ll never see daylight again."

I shoved to my feet, pacing in a tight circle, anger clawing up my throat. The thought of losing my chance – my only chance – because of one slip made me want to put my fist through the wall. But then I caught myself.

Margot’s voice echoed in my ears. ‘I forgive you.’

Why the hell did that matter so much? Why did I care that she still looked at me without fear in her eyes after everything I’d done?

Leo studied me like he was reading every thought on my face. "You're not built for this project, Santo. You never were. But maybe…" he tilted his chin toward the girls, "maybe she makes you different."

I froze, my spine going stiff.

Different.

That word was poison. I wasn't supposed to be different. Different meant weakness. Different meant losing the edge that kept me alive in a place like this.

But when I glanced up, when my eyes found Margot's across the gym – even for that split second before Cara pulled her attention back – my chest tightened.

Maybe Leo was right.

Maybe I already was different.

And maybe that terrified me more than anything.

Leo didn’t let up. He never did when he smelled blood in the water.

"You don't get it, Santo." He wiped his palms on his shorts, watching me like a hawk. "This whole thing? The Project? It's a test. Every second of every day. And right now, the only thing keeping your ass in this game is her."

I stilled, chest still rising and falling heavy from the set. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means," Leo leaned closer, voice sharp and deliberate, "they're not watching me. Or Cara. They're watching you. You're the one they expect to fail. You're the one they expect to prove them right, that some people can't be reformed. You've got the worst rep in this place, and you know it. The fights. The shit you pulled with the guards. That temper of yours." He jabbed a finger into my chest. "The only reason they haven't thrown you back in the hole yet is because of her."

My blood heated, hot and dangerous. "Don't talk about her like she's-"

"What?" Leo cut me off, eyes narrowing. "Like she's your master?"

My fists clenched so hard my knuckles cracked. But the truth was… that’s exactly what she was. And it scared the hell out of me.

Leo leaned back, shaking his head. "See, this is where you're fucked, Santo. You've got two wars going on—one in here." He tapped his temple. "And one out here." He gestured at my fists. "If you don't get a handle on both, you're done. You want freedom? Prove it. Show them you can protect her instead of near killing her."

The words punched harder than any hit I'd ever taken.

Protect her.

That’s what I’d been trying to do this entire week…