We’ve already had longer than we should have. I lift my hand, pushing damp hair from her face. My fingers tremble. “God, Cat.”
“Luc,” she whispers. Her face begins to crumple.
“No.” I grab her face in mine, press our foreheads together. “No. You are not allowed to quit. Do you hear me? This isnotthe end of our story.”
When she steps forward, I don’t hesitate. I wrap my arms around her again, trying to warm her cold body with my own.
“We’re so fucking close. I’m getting Alessia out of there, and then we’re coming for you. We’re coming.”
Her swallow is loud in the quiet. “Dom – is he—,”
“He’s fine,” I breathe. “Tired, but fine.”
She glances at the door. “And Dante? Gio? ”
“Missing you.” I brush my lips against hers, can’t stop it. “We’re all missing you, little crow.”
A low knock sounds against the door. Her lips push against mine, sudden and urgent, and I put every bit of pain and want into that kiss before I tear myself away. “I love you. Promise me you’ll remember.”
She keeps her eyes on mine like I’ll disappear. “I’ll try.”
I cup her cheek. Then I gesture to the door. “I’ll go first. Take a minute.”
One last, final kiss.
I nod at Stefano on my way out, my murmur making him stiffen. “Take care of her, Asante.”
And I launch myself back into the party.
I have a fucking job to do.
Day 90 – Caterina
Islump over the sink, my hands gripping the marble.
Real. This isreal.
My head still feels like it’s full of cotton, but – clearer. Clearer than it’s been in days. Maybe… maybe longer.
Luc washere. And if Luc was real, maybe that means—
The door bangs open. Stefano stares at me. “Cat.”
Real.
I start to shake. My legs tremble so badly that I hold on to that sink in case I fall. “I thought you weredead.”
He takes a step, and then another, and then my arms are around his neck and he’s gripping me so fucking tightly, his face buried in my skin as he breathes me in. “Fuck, you scared me.”
“Isawyou. I saw you dead – so many times.”
So many images, all of them twisted inside my head.
There’s anguish on his handsome face as he pulls back. Some light bruising lingers beside his eye. “I’m fine. But Cat – I’m so sorry.”
At the despair in his gaze, I stop. And the realization creeps in, untethered by the fog starting to drift out of my mind.
“Salvatore,” I whisper. “Does he… he has a black canopy. Above his bed.”
