I'll go back. I'll become Don Rossi again. I'll do whatever it takes to make them safe.
And then—if I survive it, if I can find a way out—I'll come back for them.
If they'll still have me.
I wrap the gun back up, hide it again. Then I stand there in the darkness, trying to prepare myself for what comes next.
Leaving. Fighting. Possibly dying.
All for two people who've become my entire world.
I cross the yard to the house. The kitchen door is unlocked. It always is now. Inside, everything is quiet and dark. Elena's door is closed, her soft breathing audible even from the hallway.
I make my way to Isabella's room. Our room, really, though we've never said it out loud. I've been sleeping here for weeks now, ever since that first night after Draco. Ever since she reached for me in the darkness and I couldn't let go.
The door is open and she's asleep, curled on her side, dark hair spread across the pillow. In the faint moonlight from the window, she looks peaceful. Younger than her years. Like the weight she carries has lifted, just for a moment.
I should let her sleep. Should climb in beside her quietly and let her have this last night of peace before I tell her I'm leaving.
But I can't. Can't lie beside her and pretend everything's normal when my whole body is screaming that this might be the last time.
"Isabella," I say quietly as I sit on the edge of the bed.
She stirs, her eyes opening. For a moment she's confused, then she sees my face and sits up immediately.
"Lupo? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Everyone's fine." I reach out and touch her face. "I made my decision."
She goes very still, and I watch understanding dawn in her eyes. "You're going back."
"Yes. I'm calling Ciro in the morning."
The pain that crosses her face is unbearable. But she doesn't cry, doesn't protest. Just nods slowly.
"For how long?"
"I don't know. However long it takes to stabilize things. To eliminate the threats. To make it safe for you and Elena."
"And then?"
"I come back. If I can."
"If you survive, you mean."
"Yes."
She's quiet for a long moment, her hand coming up to cover mine where it rests against her cheek. "When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow night. Maybe the day after. Depends on what Ciro says."
"That soon."
"I can't wait. The longer I'm gone, the more unstable things get. The more dangerous it becomes." I lean closer. "Isabella, I'm sorry. I know this isn't—"
"Stop." She shakes her head. "You're doing what you have to do. I understand that."
"Do you?"
