Tonio slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit in the filthy water, facing his kill. The pain was a living thing, gnawing at his insides. He fumbled in a pouch on his vest, pulling out a compressed gauze bandage. He shoved it hard against the wound, hissing through his teeth as fresh agony bloomed.
The image of her face, the one he’d clung to as a compass needle, flashed before him. The cold from the concrete and the water began to seep into his bones, a deeper chill than the blood loss. The hollow silence he carried was no longer hollow; it was filled with the echoing, final shot and the crushing fear that insecuring her future, he had just obliterated his own chance to be in it.
He closed his eyes, not against the pain, but against the image of her. It was too pure for this place. Too bright for the darkness that was claiming him.
The sound of hurried footsteps splashing through the water echoed down the tunnel. A beam of light found him.
“Tonio! Jesus.” It was Luc.
But Tonio didn’t open his eyes. He just leaned his head back against the cold, unforgiving concrete, the compass needle spinning wildly, lost in a storm of his own making.
The world wasa blur of jostling motion and searing pain. Tonio was only semi-conscious, aware of the hard surface of the SUV’s seat beneath him, the smell of his own blood, and the frantic, low voices of Luc and Carlos.
“—bleeding’s slowed, but the round’s still in there. Doc is ready. Five minutes out.”
He surfaced for a moment, his mind clawing through the agony, and a single, desperate thought formed before the darkness took him again.
Sofia.
The next time he forced his eyes open, his vision swam in the sterile light of the estate’s medical room. She was there, crouched beside the cot, her face pale and streaked with tears, her small, cool hands pressed over the bloody compress on his side. Her touch was the only thing that didn’t feel like fire.
“Tonio,” she choked out. “Stay with me. Please.”
He tried to form her name, but only a ragged breath escaped his lips. Then the darkness pulled him under once more, and her terrified face was the last thing he saw before it swallowed him whole.
He woke properly hours later. The pain was now a deep, throbbing ache, muted by powerful drugs flowing into his arm. The sharp, chemical smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils.
And she was there.
Slumped in a chair beside the bed, her head rested on the mattress near his hip, her hand locked around his. She’d fallen asleep like that, but even out cold, the strain showed in her face. Her lashes were still wet.
Seeing her there—safe, right in front of him—sent a slow warmth through his chest, pushing back the cold dread he’d carried in with him. He’d made it. He’d come back to her.
As if sensing his wakefulness, she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. For a single, heart-stopping moment, there was only relief. A beautiful, unguarded wave of it that made her look like the woman in the sunhat.
Then, something shifted. He watched it happen. The relief in her eyes shattered, replaced by a sorrow so deep it stole the air from his lungs.
“You’re awake,” she whispered, her voice raw.
He tried to squeeze her hand, his grip weak. “Sofia…”
The tears started again, silent this time, and somehow worse than the sobbing. They were tears of resignation.
“I can’t do this, Tonio.” The words were so quiet he almost thought he’d imagined them.
The warmth in his chest turned to ice. “Do what?” he asked, though he knew. He knew with a certainty that was more painful than the bullet wound.
“This.” She gestured weakly at the IV line, the bandages, at him lying broken in the bed. “I sat here for hours, watching youbreathe, praying you wouldn’t stop. And all I could think was that this could be any day. That any time you walk out the door, this could be what I’m left with. The waiting. The terror.”
“It was the last time,” he argued, his voice gaining a desperate strength. “Young was the last loose end. It’s over. It’s clean now.”
“Is it?” she asked, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “You are who you are. Luc, Carlos… this is your world. There will always be another Young. Another threat. Another reason for you to walk into a dark hole and come back bleeding.” A sob caught in her throat. “I won’t spend my life staring at a phone, waiting for Luc to tell me you’re not coming home. It will destroy me.”
He saw the truth in her eyes. It weren’t a negotiation. It was a conclusion.She’s seen what my life is,he thought.And she’s choosing to survive it by leaving it.
“I love you,” he said, the words feeling futile and small against the tide of her despair.
“I love you too,” she cried, her face contorting as if the words were blades in her throat. “That’s why I have to go. Because loving you and watching this happen to you… it would kill me just as surely as that bullet.”
