Alessandro carries me to a car, not the Mercedes, something nondescript and unremarkable. The driver takes off the moment we’re inside, leaving the scene of carnage behind.
“Where are we going?” The question comes out small.
“Safe house. Somewhere nobody knows about.” His hand cups my face, thumb brushing away tears. “Elena, I need you to listen to me. What you just saw, what I did—”
“You saved me.”
“I butchered three men in front of you.”
“You saved me.” The words come firmer this time. “They were going to, they said they were going to—” I can’t finish. Can’t say it out loud.
“I know.” His jaw clenches. “It what men like that do, Elena and I’m so sorry. Cristo, Elena, I’ve never felt rage like that. Never felt so close to losing control completely.”
“But you didn’t lose control. You were—” The word comes slowly, surprising even as it’s spoken. “Efficient. Precise. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve done this before. Killed people like this.”
“Yes.” No apology. No excuse. Just truth.
I should be terrified. Even disgusted. And probably be running as far away as possible from a man who just disemboweled someone without blinking.
But all that exists is gratitude and relief. The bone-deep certainty Alessandro would burn the entire world down to keep me safe.
“Thank you.” The words are whispered against his chest. “For coming. For saving me. For—for being what you are.”
His entire body goes rigid. “Elena—”
“I was wrong.” The confession hurts but needs saying. “Three days ago, when I kicked you out, when I blamed you for everything, I was wrong. Being with you is dangerous. But not being with you is worse. Because those men today? They would have taken me anyway. Would have used me as a message anyway. At least this way, you were there to save me.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re in shock—”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.” Pulling back to meet his eyes. “I love you, Alessandro De Luca. I love the man who makes me breakfast and the monster who kills to protect me. I love all of it, all of you, even the parts that terrify me.”
“You shouldn’t.” But his hands are gentle on my face, his eyes searching mine. “You should run far away and never look back.”
“Probably. But I’m stubborn, remember? When I want something, I don’t give up easily.” A shaky smile manages to surface. “And I want you. Even knowing what that costs. Even knowing the danger. I choose you.”
“Elena—” His voice breaks.
“I choose you,” the words are repeated, firmer this time. “Stop trying to push me away for my own good. Stop making decisions for me. Let me love you, and love me back, and we’ll figure out the rest together.”
For a long moment, he just stares. Then he’s kissing me, desperately, tenderly and tasting of relief, promise and something that might be hope.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my lips. “Cristo, I love you so much it terrifies me.”
“Good. Be terrified with me.”
His laugh is wet, broken. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Or your salvation. I haven’t decided yet.”
The car takes us somewhere safe, a house in the suburbs, unremarkable and anonymous. Inside, Alessandro tends to the bruises on my wrists from the zip ties, the scrapes from being thrown in the van, the invisible wounds from almost being—
I can’t think about it. I won’t focus on what almost happened. The only thing that matter is the fact that Alessandro found me, saved me, showed me exactly what loving him truly means.
“Stay with me tonight,” the request comes quietly. “Let me hold you and know you’re safe.”
