We stay like that for several long moments, both of us shaking, both crying, both aware that what just happened was goodbye as much as anything else.
When I finally lift my head from his shoulder, his face is wet with tears. His brown eyes—usually so controlled—are red-rimmed.
“Even if we survive this,” I say quietly, my voice hoarse, “we’re done. You know that, right?”
He nods, his hands coming up to frame my face with surprising gentleness. “I know. Too much damage. Too many lies.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “But thank you for giving me this. For letting me—” His voice breaks. “For letting me love you one last time.”
I don’t respond. Can’t respond. I just press my forehead against his and try to memorize this moment. The feel of his hands on my face, the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body against mine.
Then I force myself to move, to climb off his lap and straighten my clothes with shaking hands. He does the same, both of us silent as we make ourselves presentable again.
When we’re done, I climb back into the passenger seat. He returns to the driver’s side. And without a word, he starts the engine and pulls out of the alley.
We drive deeper into the industrial district, moving through shadows and abandoned lots toward the address Romano specified. The warehouse looms ahead, dark and foreboding, every window a potential sniper’s nest.
This is suicide. We both know it. But we keep driving anyway, because the alternative—living with the guilt of not trying—is worse than dying together.
“Luca,” I say as he parks near the warehouse entrance. “When we get in there?—”
“I know.” His voice is quiet, resigned. “If it comes down to saving you or killing Romano, I’m choosing you. I need you to know that.”
I startle. That’s not what I expected him to say nor was it what I was going to say. “Wait—but Marco?—”
“Would hate what I’ve become in his name,” Luca finishes. “He would tell me that you’re more important than revenge. And he’d be right.” He reaches for my hand, squeezing once before letting go. “So if I have to choose, I’m choosing you. Even knowing that it doesn’t change anything between us and that you’ll still leave if we survive.”
Tears blur my vision. “I will leave,” I confirm quietly, reminding him and reminding myself. “Because I can’t—” I press my lips together, choking back a sob. “I can’t look at you without seeing the man who planned to kill me.”
“I know.” He stares straight ahead at the warehouse. “But I’d rather have you alive and gone than dead because I couldn’t let go of vengeance.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know how to process the fact that he’s finally choosing love over revenge, but only when it’s too late to matter.
So I just take his hand again and hold on tight.
Together, we step out of the car and walk toward the warehouse entrance.
Into whatever Romano has waiting for us.
Into an ending we both know is inevitable but are powerless to prevent.
24
LUCA
The warehouse door swings open with a groan of rusted metal that echoes through the cavernous space beyond. Darkness swallows us immediately, thick and oppressive, broken only by faint moonlight filtering through grimy windows set high in the walls.
Every instinct I’ve honed over years in this business screams that this is wrong. Too convenient. Too isolated. Too perfectly designed for an ambush.
I’m walking into it anyway.
Because the alternative is abandoning Antonio and losing whatever microscopic thread of trust Gigi might still have in me. I’ve already destroyed so much between us. I can’t destroy this too.
My hand finds the small of her back automatically, a protective gesture I don’t even think about anymore. She’s trembling slightly, though whether from fear or adrenaline or the aftershocks from sex, I can’t tell.
“Stay behind me,” I murmur, my voice barely audible. “Whatever happens?—”
“I know,” she whispers back, but her voice is steady despite how I can hear her teeth chattering from fear. “We get my father and get out.”
If only it were that simple.
