"Alessandro Rosetti doesn't give up control," I observe, watching him carefully. "He takes what he wants and never lets go."
A muscle ticks in his jaw. "Unless what he wants is someone who wants him back. Not because they have to, but because they choose to."
"What if I take all this and disappear?" I test him, needing to understand how deep this gesture goes. "What if I go to the FBI, expose your entire operation? Tell them exactly how the Rosettis traffic weapons through those northern routes?"
Alex doesn't even flinch. "Then you do."
"You'd let me destroy your family?"
"I'd let you do whatever you need to be free." His voice remains steady, though I see the effort it costs him. "If burning my world down makes you whole again, then let it burn."
The complete surrender in his words hits harder than any threat ever could. This man who's built his life on control, who commands through violence and fear, is giving me the power to annihilate him.
My hand reaches across the desk toward his, needing to feel if he's real, if this moment is actually happening. But he pulls back before I can make contact, his hands dropping to his lap.
"Don't," he says roughly. "If you touch me, I might influence your choice. This has to be yours alone."
"Since when do you care about influence?" The question comes out sharper than intended, but something about his rejection stings. "You've been manipulating situations since the day we met."
"Since I realized I love you enough to let you go."
The words hang between us like a blade. Love. He's never said it in the cold light of day before, only when he thought I was sleeping or too lost in pleasure to fully process it.
I stand abruptly, the papers clutched to my chest with my good arm. The movement makes him tense, but he doesn't rise, doesn't try to stop me. His hands grip the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles go white, but he remains seated, letting me have all the space I need.
"You'd really let me leave," I say, moving toward the door. "After everything we've been through, everything we've become to each other, you'd just watch me walk away?"
"If that's what you choose." Each word sounds like it's being carved from his throat. "Yes."
I reach the door handle, the hot metal against my palm feeling like a moment of absolute truth. Behind me, Alex remains frozen at his desk, a king surrendering his kingdom for something more precious than power.
My fingers close around the handle, and I hear his sharp intake of breath. This is it: the moment where Emma Pitt decides whether to remain Emma Rosetti or reclaim who she used to be. The weight of real choice, something I haven't had in so long, makes my knees weak.
"Ti amo," Alex whispers, so soft I almost miss it.
I freeze with my hand on the door handle, those Italian words stopping me cold. Slowly, I turn back to face him.
"Say that in English." My voice comes out harder than intended, but I need to hear it clearly, without the protection of another language. "If you mean it, say it so I understand every word."
Alex stands slowly, his movements careful like he's afraid of spooking me. But he doesn't approach, just remains behind his desk, hands flat on the mahogany surface.
"I love you, Emma Pitt." He pauses, swallows hard. "Whatever name you choose, whoever you decide to be, I love you enough to let you go."
The words shatter something inside me. This man who deals in violence and possession, who's never met a problem he couldn't solve with force or money, is giving me the one thing no one ever has: genuine choice.
"That's not fair," I whisper, tears threatening. "You can't say that now."
"It's the only time I can say it." His green eyes hold mine across the room. "When you're free to leave. When it can't be another chain binding you to me."
I turn and walk out before my resolve crumbles completely. My feet carry me through the mansion's halls, past the places where we've fought and kissed and discovered each other. The car keys burn in my hand as I reach the garage, the Mercedes he's giving me waiting, tank full, GPS programmed with routes to anywhere but here.
The engine purrs as I drive through the compound gates. No one stops me. Alex must have told them to let me pass. The city blurs by as I navigate familiar streets, each turn taking me further from the life I've built as Emma Rosetti and closer to… what? Freedom? Or just another kind of prison, one built from running rather than staying?
The "Leaving Chicago" sign looms ahead, marking the city limits. I pull over, engine still running, staring at those words that should feel like liberation. Beyond this point, Emma Pitt could disappear forever. Wait for Tommy's release with the money Alex provided, build something new, something safe, something without blood on its foundations.
The engine idles, exhaust visible in the warm night air. The highway stretches ahead, promising safety and boredom in equal measure. Behind me, Chicago's lights pulse like a heartbeat. Like his heartbeat when I press my ear to his chest.
My hands shake on the steering wheel. Every instinct from my servant days screams to take the money and run. But those instincts belong to a girl who no longer exists. The woman Alessandro revealed, no, the woman he helped me discover, doesn't run from darkness. She rules it.
