“I hate leaving you,” he murmurs.
“I hate you going,” I whisper back, voice breaking.
He exhales as it hits him in the ribs. “I’ll come back,” he promises. “The second it’s over, I’m coming home.”
I nod, chest too tight for air.
He stands and walks to the chair near the dresser. And that’s when my stomach drops.
The bulletproof vest is sitting there. Like it’s normal. Like my man doesn’t have to armor himself to walk into a church full of monsters.
Fear slams into me as Drago picks it up.
“Drago…” I whisper.
He pauses, vest in his hands, and looks at me. Really looks at me.
His face softens instantly, and he crosses the room, setting the vest down like it’s too heavy to hold, while I’m looking at him like this. He crouches beside the bed again, taking my face gently between his hands.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” my voice cracks.
His thumb wipes my cheek. “Don’t look at me like you’re going to say goodbye.”
“I can’t help it,” I whisper. “You’re basically putting on armor.”
His jaw tightens, and for a second, I see the truth he’s trying to hide. The fact that he knows exactly how dangerous today is, and he just refuses to let it touch me.
“This is precaution,” he says. “We’ve got men everywhere. The Quinn’s army. Enzo’s. Frankie and Mikhail. We’re not walking in blind.”
“But what if?—”
What if he never gets to be a dad? What if he doesn’t get a chance to see his baby grow up? What if I’m left to do this all by myself?
I’m not sure I’m strong enough on my own.
He kisses me hard, cutting me off before the thought spirals. When he pulls back, his voice is rough. “I love you,” he whispers. “You hear me?”
I nod, tears spilling again. “I love you,” I whisper back.
His eyes shine faintly, because this is wrecking him too.
“You’re my reason,” he murmurs. “My center. My fucking home.”
My heart aches.
He kisses me again, slower now, like he’s imprinting himself into my bones.
Then he stands, grabs the vest, and slides it on over his bare torso. One strap. Then another. The sound of the clips feels too loud in the quiet room. He tightens the sides, adjusts it like he’s done it a thousand times. Like my heart isn’t cracking with every movement.
I sit up a little, and my head starts to spin, but I don’t make it obvious. I can’t be a distraction that gets him killed.
He looks over immediately. “Stay in bed.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, even though I’m not.
He finishes the last strap and comes back to me, hands cradling my face again like he can’t stop touching me. “I need you to do exactly what I say today,” he murmurs.
