“It is,” he said, without a second thought.
Silence. Then a quiet breath, like she’d braced for refusal.
“Okay,” she said. “Good. I could use a drink. Maybe dinner after.”
“Where are you?”
“The diner. I know it’s late…”
“I’ll be there soon.”
“All right.” A beat. Softer this time: “Thanks, Tonio.”
He didn’t know what she was thanking him for, but it sounded like more than a meal.
“See you soon,” he said, ending the call.
For a moment, he just stared at the phone. Then he grabbed his keys—because waiting meant thinking, and he didn’t have time for that.
CHAPTER SIX
The bell above the diner door jingled, a sound she usually found comforting. Tonight, it made her flinch. Sofia didn’t look up, just kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring at a crack in the Formica table. The smell of old grease and coffee, usually so familiar and comforting, now felt suffocating. She was an exposed nerve—raw and vibrating with a fear she couldn’t shake. The phantom sensation of cold metal against her skull was something she knew would never fade. Sofia had no one in her life to reach out to—no one to steady her against the emotions pummeling her. When she’d run from the churchyard, fear and desperation crashing through her, her mind had gone to Tonio without hesitation. She was still stunned that he answered on the first ring… and even more stunned that he was coming for her. Footsteps approached, steady and sure. She forced her eyes up.
Tonio approached her booth, his gaze sweeping the room with a practiced, predatory grace before landing on her. Sofia felt embarrassed as he took in the red-rimmed eyes, the hunched shoulders, the loss of composure she usually wore like armor. His expression stayed unreadable, hard as stone. For a moment,she was sure he’d turn and walk out—that he’d take one look at her and decide he was done. But he didn’t. He stood there, steady, silent.
Something in her snapped.
She stood and crossed the space before she could talk herself out of it, and it wasn’t graceful—it was a collapse. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers gripping the back of his jacket like he was the only solid thing left after everything had spun out. She pressed her face into his shoulder and breathed him in—cold air and leather.
His entire body went rigid, as surprised as a statue by a clinging vine. A hot flush of shame crawled up her neck. She’d read him all wrong.Oh God. She was about to pull away, but then, a shift. A slow exhale warmed the air near her ear, and his arms came around her—tentative at first, then solid, real. A shaky breath escaped her, half sob, half relief.
“Just breathe,” he murmured against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
He guided her back to the booth, his hand steady on her arm. He looked at her—really looked—and she hated how exposed it made her feel. His eyes caught the tremor in her hands and the color that drained from her face. She felt stripped bare under that scrutiny. She’d spent her whole life controlling every word, every reaction. But his concern—quiet, real—cut straight through the walls she’d built.
Her voice cracked. “I was attacked earlier.”
Tonio went still—not a blink, not a breath. In an instant, the man was gone, replaced by something else—his focus sharpened, his stillness becoming that of a hunter who’d caught a scent.
“At the church,” she pushed on. “I went looking for a priest, Father Gabriele. Outside, someone was waiting.” Her throat constricted. “It wasn’t random. They were waiting for me.”
His jaw tightened, a small, sharp movement. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his entire focus narrowing on her with an almost physical intensity. “Are you hurt?” His voice was even, carefully controlled.
The terror had pressed down on her chest, and she hadn’t thought—just called him until she was brave enough to speak. That impulse had led her here, to this fragile, charged space she didn’t know how to navigate.
“No. Not really. Just…” She exhaled, a shaky admission of weakness. “It shook me up.”
She saw the calculation in his eyes—the quick, professional assessment. She wasn’t a woman who scared easily, and some part of him seemed to know it. His gaze wasn’t dismissive; it was… angry. But why? Then she saw it—the target of his fury wasn’t her but the people who had hurt her. The realization was a balm.
“It’s because of what I found. What I’ve been digging into,” she said, the truth now a weapon she had to wield. She had no one else. So she armed him with it. Sofia realized, with a jolt of fear, that something might happen to her—something final—and she had never told a single soul the truth. Was he the right person to trust? She didn’t know. It was awful enough that she had no one else.
But what frightened her even more was that he was the one she wanted to run to.
How was it possible to feel this kind of connection to someone after only a few meetings?
“Can I tell you about it?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
