Click .
The world didn't end .
Moretti's gun jammed .
One second. That's all Alessio needed .
He moved .
Not like a dying man . Like a God who'd been sleeping.
He was across the ten feet of concrete before Moretti could rack the slide . Alessio's hand closed over Moretti's wrist . Twisted.
Snap.
Moretti screamed. The gun hit the ground.
I didn't wait . I grabbed the broken chain still cuffed to my wrist and swung . Metal met temple . Moretti dropped like his sins weighed a thousand pounds .
Silence.
Then caos again .
Alessio turned to me . His eyes were black fire . He scanned me – cheek , lip , wrist , the blood on my shirt that wasn't mine .
" Two," he said . Voice like gravel ." You're catching up , principessa."
Then his legs started to give out .
I caught him . We both hit the concrete . His head in my lap . His blood on my jeans . Again. Always .
" Alessio!" I pressed both hands to his side . The bandage was soaked through.
" You fucking ass–"
" Shh." His finger touched my lips . Shaking . " You did good , principessa. So fucking good . "
His men formed a circle around us . Guns out. Protecting their Don . Protecting me .
One of them – the one with the tattoo who cut Don Sr. free – knelt beside us .
" Car's ready , boss. Hospital?"
" No." Alessio's eyes never left mine . " Home . Only home . "
They lifted him . He bit back a scream but didn't make a sound. He wouldn't. Not infront of his men . Not in front of me .
I ran beside the strecher they made from a door . The Buick was gone. Black SUV now . Bulletproof.
Don De Luca Sr. was already inside. Shoulder bandaged . Unconscious but alive. His chest rose. Fell. Rose .
We were all alive .
For now .
---
The De Luca Safehouse – 1:48 AM
It was not a house . It was a fortess .
Steel doors . No windows . A doctor waiting with a cash cart and no questions .
They put Alessio on a table in the basement. Cut his shirt off . Again . More blood. More scars than skin .
"Out," the doctor told me .
" No." Alessio's hand shot out, caught my wrist. Even half-dead , his grip was iron. " She stays ."
The doctor looked at him . At me . At the gun still in my hand . I hadn't dropped it .
He nodded. " Then hold him down ."
I did .
I climbed on the table . Straddled his hips . My knees pinned his arms. My hands on his shoulders. My face inches from his .
" You do this, " I told him , " and I'm never letting you go again. You hear me? Never."
He smiled. Bloody teeth . Beautiful. " Good. I was getting tired of chasing you. "
The needle went in . No painkillers . He had to be awake . In case they nicked something. In case he died.
He didn't make a sound.
He just looked at me . Like I was the only thing in the world. Like I was the reason his heart kept beating .
" You should have run, " he whispered.
" When you had the chance."
" I did." I leaned down . My forehead touched his . " Right to you."
His breath hitched. The doctor said something about a vein . I didn't hear it .
All I heard was him .
" Principessa," he breathed. " My principessa."
---
3:20 AM – The Bedroom
They moved him after . Upstairs. His room. King bed. Black sheets. The only room in the house with the window. Bulletproof glass. Looking out at nothing.
He was sleeping now. Real sleep. Drugged. Stitched. Alive .
I should have left. Should have showered . Should have slept.
I didn't.
I sat in the chair beside his bed. Still in my bloody clothes. Still holding his gun .
His father was in the next room. Also alive. Also sleeping.
We won .
So why did I feel like we had lost something?
The door opened .
Not a guard. Not the doctor.
Alessio's mother.
I'd seen pictures. She was dead. Six years . Car bomb .
This wasn't her.
This was a women in her fifties . Sharp eyes . Alessio's eyes . Wearing a black dress . Holding a glass of whiskey.
" Maria De Luca," she said. " His aunt . You can call me Zia ."
I stood. Fast . The gun went up by instinct .
She didn't flinch . She just looked at the gun . Then at me . " You shot Moretti today."
" Yes."
" You saved my brother." She nodded at the wall . Don De Luca Sr. " You saved my nephew." She nodded at the bed .
" I did ."
She walked to me . Took the gun from my hand . Gently . Like I was a child . Set it on the nightstand .
Then she slapped me .
Hard . Open palm . My head snapped to the side .
I tasted blood. Again.
" That's for making him bleed for you, " she said. Voice cold . " He's been dying since the day he saw you."
I didn't cover my cheek . Didn't step back . " He's alive because of me ."
" Exactly." She smiled then . Sharp. Like him . " Welcome to the family , principessa."
She left .
I stood there. Cheek burning. Heart racing .
" Did she hit you?"
Alessio's voice. Raspy. Weak . But awake .
I turned. His eyes were open . Watching me .
" Yeah." I touched my cheek. " I think I like her ."
He laughed. It turned into a cough . Blood on his lips . " She likes you. Otherwise she'd have used a knife ."
I went to him . Sat on the bed . Careful of his stitches .
He caught my hand . Brought it to his lips . Kissed my knuckles. The ones that were bruised from the chain . From Moretti's face .
" You came for me ," he said.
" You came for me . "
" We are a problem."
" We are a promise."
He pulled me down . Slow . Hunting . But determined.
His mouth found mine .
Not bloody this time . Not desperate.
Slow . Deep . Like he had all the time in the world. Like we'd already survived hell , so heaven could wait .
His hand slid into my hair . Fisted . Tugged my head back . His teeth grazed my throat.
" Mine ," he growled against my skin . " Say it ."
" Yours," I breathed . " Always ."
" And I'm yours." His hand slipped under my shirt. Found my waist. Skin to skin . Hot . Real . " So don't you ever run from me."
" I won't." I shifted . Straddled him again . Careful . So careful . " But you don't get to die , Alessio. Not for me . Not for anyone . You hear me ?"
He looked up at me . All of me . Bloody . Broken. His .
" Then make me live , principessa."
His hands pulled my shirt over my head .
The last thing I saw before the lights went out was his smile .
Wolfish . Hungry. Alive .