I nod, swallowing hard.
“Do you want some too?” I ask Isabella.
She nods eagerly and jumps to her feet, grabbing my hand like she’s already claimed me.
Her fingers are warm and small.
Alive.
Safe.
“When will my daddy be back?” she asks as she tugs me toward the table.
My heart twists.
“Soon,” I tell her, because what else can I say?
Because I don’t know. Because I don’t have my phone. Because I don’t have anything except hope and the faint, steady beating of my own heart.
I sit down and Hallie slides a plate in front of me. A pastry. A few pieces of fruit. Something warm to drink.
I manage two mouthfuls before I hear it.
Footsteps coming down the stairs.
Isabella hears it too because her eyes light up like she’s been plugged into electricity.
She’s off her chair before I can even blink. “Daddy!” she squeals.
The first person through the door is Declan. And Isabella launches herself at him like a missile.
My heart melts as he catches her effortlessly, lifting her up into his arms, his face disappearing into her hair as he nuzzles her like he’s grounding himself, like that small, innocent body is the one thing in the world that can hold him together.
Even a mafia boss, one of the strongest men in the world can be brought to the edge of tears by the love for their own kid.
Declan’s eyes close for a second.
His hand spreads over her back.
And I see it.
Relief.
He’s alive. He came back.
Then my gaze shifts…
And everything else falls silent.
Drago steps into the room behind him.
His clothes are smudged with smoke and dirt. His jaw is unshaven. His eyes look like they haven’t stopped scanning for threats since yesterday. Like his body is still in war mode, still waiting for the next explosion.
But the second he sees me something inside him changes.
Something breaks.
He doesn’t wait for me to stand.
