Her eyebrows lifted. “And how old are you now?”
“Twenty-eight.”
She absorbed that, then asked, “Why did you join?”
“To learn how to become the kind of man my family needs to protect them.”
A faint frown creased her brow. “And what kind of man is that?”
“One who knows what to do when danger comes calling.”
She studied him, her gaze turning thoughtful. “You said ‘when,’ not ‘if.’”
“When is the only honest answer,” he replied. “People can’t live as sheep.” His grip relaxed just slightly. “They have to be the wolves, or life will swallow them.”
She exhaled, slow and contemplative. “I like that idea… that way, people would get hurt less.”
He flicked a glance at her then—brief, assessing—and something in her expression made his chest tighten. She wasn’t glorifying violence. She was longing for safety. For the power to stop the cycle of fear she’d been trapped in.
After a moment, she said, “You carry a lot, Tonio.”
He said nothing.
But her words struck deeper than she knew. She made him feel the weight of the lives he’d taken. Every flicker of fear or strength in her eyes was a judgment, and choosing to protect her could be a desperate, selfish attempt to balance a scale that could never be clean.
She stretched, slow and unbothered. The sweater she wore rode up, revealing the flat of her stomach and the sensual curves of her hips. Tonio imagined licking over that navel and going lower to her pussy.
“You keep staring like that, I might start blushing like a silly schoolgirl,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep, laced with a tease. “I can see what you’re thinking.”
Tonio smirked. “Is that so?”
She smiled, slow and sleepy. “Yes.” The air thickened, charged with unsaid things.
Neon glowed ahead—a vacancy sign. He pulled off, tires crunching on gravel. The motel was a tomb: single-story, doors opening to the lot, a sign promising nothing.
Tonio cut the engine. He handed her cash. “Get us a room. Bottom floor, near the exit. You’re less memorable.”
She took the money, arching a brow. “Flattering.”
He chuckled. “We’ll rest for a while and then continue to the cabin.”
Sofia returned minutes later and handed him a single key. “They only had a single bed left.”
Tonio fought a smirk. “That bother you?”
She shot him a glare. “No. But we’ll practically be sleeping on top of each other. It’ll be a tight fit.”
He pocketed the key. “I like tight fits,” he drawled.
She blushed again. He liked it. They grabbed their bags from the trunk, the night air cool and smelling of distant rain. He did a slow, casual scan of the lot—clean. For now. The room reeked of bleach and regret. The carpet stuck to their boots. One small, single bed, center stage.
Sofia dropped her bag. “I’ll take the couch.”
Tonio chuckled, tossing his onto the bed. “Relax,princesa. I’m not that bad to share with.”
She folded her arms. “That’s not the issue.”
He smirked. “Then what is?”
