Relief crashes through me so hard I have to lean against the wall. "Leave us."
"Sir, I need to?—"
"Get. Out."
She scurries away, closing the door behind her.
My legs shake as I cross to Sophia's bed. I collapse into the chair beside her, my knees finally giving up the fight to keep me upright.
Christ, look at her. Purple and black fingerprints circle her throat like a necklace. Her lips are slightly parted, a tube feeding oxygen into her lungs.
I reach for her hand. It's cold, and I wrap both of mine around it, trying to push warmth into her skin.
"Sophia."
This feeling in my chest—it's trying to claw its way out through my ribs. Like my lungs forgot how to work, like I need to crack open my chest and give her my heart, my breath, everything that keeps me alive.
Is this love? This desperate, violent need to trade places with her? To take every bruise, every moment of terror she felt, and wear it myself?
I've faced terror. I've seen so much death. But seeing her like this? It's ripping me apart from the inside. Every breath she takes feels like it's coming from my own lungs. Like if she stops, I stop.
I want to breathe for her. Want to open her mouth and push air from my lungs into hers, keep her alive with my own breath if that's what it takes.
"I'd die for you." The words scrape out of my throat. "You hear me? I'd fucking die for you, and I don't even understand why."
No, that's a lie. I do understand.
It's the way she threw bread at my face when I pissed her off. The way she stands up to me when everyone else cowers. How she looks at me.
This must be what love feels like. This rabid, feral thing that makes me want to burn down the world just to keep her warm.Makes me want to tear apart anyone who even thinks about hurting her.
I love her. Not want her, not need to possess her.
I fucking love her.
Love her enough that I'd rip out my own heart and shove it in her chest if hers stopped beating. Love her enough that every second she doesn't open her eyes feels like drowning.
"Wake up." I lean forward, pressing my forehead to our joined hands. "Wake up so I can tell you. So I can make this right. You're everything, you understand? You're my whole fucking world, and I didn't even know it until I almost lost you."
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Sophia
Pain.
That's all I can feel. My throat burns like someone poured acid down it, and every breath scrapes against raw flesh. My chest aches with each shallow inhale, like my ribs are made of broken glass.
Voices drift through the darkness. Familiar ones.
"—been here all night. Lorenzo, you need to eat something."
Vittoria? That sounds like Vittoria.
"I'm not leaving her." A deeper voice, rough with exhaustion. "Not until she wakes up."
Lorenzo. My heart stutters, sending fresh pain through my chest.
I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids weigh a thousand pounds. Everything hurts. Why does everything hurt? Why am I not dead?
