No more screaming.
Just the echo of ruin.
Santino stands in it—wrecked and unbreakable, chest heaving, eyes still burning holes through the dark.
He crosses the room.
Straight to me.
He came.
For me.
And he isn’t leaving without me.
The Rescue: Rage, Relief, and Devotion Twisted Together
Santino reaches me like he’s tearing himself out of a fire.
His hands shake when they find the cuffs at my wrists, metal loud in the sudden quiet. He fumbles the knife once, swears under his breath, then sets the blade with surgical focus. The cut is clean. One link gives. Then another. The chains hit the floor with a weight that feels heavier than iron.
“I’m sorry they hurt you.”
His voice is sandpaper and smoke, a prayer dragged through broken glass.
I try to respond. My mouth opens. Nothing.
When I push to stand, my legs fold like they’ve been waiting for permission to quit. The floor lunges. Pain detonates—hot and blinding—
And then I’m not falling.
Santino catches me before my knees ever kiss concrete. His arms lock around my waist and haul me up against his chest like gravity is a negotiable thing.
“Easy,” he murmurs, lips brushing my hair, my temple, the blood on my skin. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
The words break something that’s been clenched inside me for hours.
I press my face into his shirt and breathe like a drowning person who has finally found air. He smells of smoke and sweat and violence—and beneath it, something softer that belongs only to him.
“I told you to run,” I whisper into his heartbeat.
My voice dies on the second word.
He tightens his hold until my ribs ache. “I don’t run from the woman I love.”
The confession tears itself out of him raw and unfiltered—and the moment it lands between us, he goes still, like he expects the words to paint a target on his chest.
I don’t step back.
I cling.
My breath shatters inside me, fast and violent, and I can’t make it stop. I press my forehead to his chest. His heartbeat drums, keeping my heart calm.
“Santino… I didn’t want you to come.”
He exhales like it costs him something.
“I didn’t want to breathe without you.”
