“I’m not going anywhere,” the promise is spoken against his chest as his arms wrap around me. “I’m done running. Done pretending I can live without you. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Thank God.” His hold tightens. “Because letting you walk away three days ago was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Watching you hate me, knowing I deserved it—”
“You didn’t deserve it. I was scared and angry and I lashed out.” I pull back to meet his eyes. “But Alessandro? No more secrets. No more trying to protect me by hiding things. If we’re doing this, really doing this, I need all of it. The truth, the danger, everything.”
“Everything,” he agrees. “No more secrets. No more hiding.”
“Good.” I press a kiss to his jaw. “Now hold me. And tomorrow, we’ll figure out how to handle Greco and the feds and everyone else who wants to use me against you.”
“Tomorrow,” he agrees, gathering me close. “Tonight, you’re just mine and I’m just yours and nothing else matters.”
And surrounded by his warmth, his strength, his love, for the first time in three days, safety finally feels real.
Because monsters might be terrifying.
But sometimes, loving a monster is the only thing that keeps you safe. And being loved by one is what finally makes them human again.
Chapter Twelve
Alessandro
Dawn breaks over the safe house, pale winter light filtering through unfamiliar windows. Elena sleeps in my arms, bruised, exhausted, but alive and safe.
The rage from yesterday has cooled into something harder, more purposeful. Greco crossed a line. His men put their hands on what’s mine, threatened to violate her in ways that still make my blood boil.
They died for it. But Greco himself remains, and as long as he breathes, Elena is in danger.
Which means the decision was made somewhere around three AM, watching her sleep, becomes inevitable.
She needs to go. Needs to be somewhere Greco can’t reach, somewhere my enemies can’t use her as leverage. Somewhere far from the violence that defines my world.
Even if sending her away destroys me.
Her eyes flutter open, focusing on my face. “Morning.”
“Morning, tesoro.” The endearment comes automatically now. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore. Scared.” She shifts closer, tucking herself against my chest. “But safe. With you, I feel safe.”
The words are a knife to my chest. Because she shouldn’t feel safe. Elean should feel terrified of the man who butchered three people in front of her, who lives in a world where kidnapping and rape threats are Tuesday afternoon problems.
“Elena, we need to talk.”
She stiffens. “Those are never good words.”
“No, they’re not.” Sitting up requires a careful extraction from her warmth. “What happened yesterday, what almost happened, it can’t happen again.”
“Okay. So, we’ll be more careful. More security, better protocols—”
“No.” The word comes out harder and cold. “Elena, this isn’t about security protocols. This is about the fact that being near me will always put you in danger. Always make you a target. I can’t—” The sentence catches. “I can’t keep watching you pay the price for my choices.”
Her expression shifts from confused to understanding to furious in the span of three seconds. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t you dare.” She’s out of bed now, wrapped in one of my shirts, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare use what happened as an excuse to push me away again. We had this conversation. I chose you.I choose you.”
“You chose before you were almost raped and killed—”
