I tear off a piece. Dense. Sweet. The cinnamon hits first, then the vanilla underneath. It tastes like something special. The kind ofthing you didn't know you were missing until it's sitting in front of you, warm and real and impossibly out of place.
I glance at Luan. He's standing by the window, one hand braced against the frame. His posture is rigid. Shoulders back. Head tilted slightly, like he's listening to something I can't hear. The gun sits on the side table.
"This is fucking delicious," I say.
He doesn't respond right away. Just nods once, a short, controlled dip of his chin.
I take another bite. Wait.
Then I ask, "You sure she didn't see you, last night?"
"I'm sure."
"How sure?"
"I was sitting in the dark." His voice is flat. No inflection. "She was too busy talking on the phone about her life problems to notice anything else."
I study him. His jaw is tight. His hands flex once, then still. He's wound tighter than usual today.
The blindness is eating at him.
He hates that he can't see. Hates that his body betrayed him. Hates that he has to sit here and wait to heal.
I know better than to push. So I finish the banana bread and let him sit with whatever's eating at him.
But my back twinges, and the memory surfaces before I can stop it.
Three weeks ago. Late afternoon. We were heading to his car after a meeting with the southside crew. Another power play, another round of proving Luan's claim to leadership of the Krasniqi clan. The transition from his father's rule to his had been brutal, but necessary. We'd spent weeks shoring up alliances, eliminating threats, making sure everyone understood that the new order was permanent.
It was supposed to be routine. Another meeting. Another day of building the foundation that would keep Luan alive and in power.
Then I heard the click.
A sound so small it shouldn't have registered. But it did. Instinct kicked in before thought. I grabbed Luan by the shoulder and shoved him sideways, hard. He hit the ground half a second before the explosion tore through the car we were about to enter.
Heat. Noise. The world compressing into a single moment of chaos.
Then pain.
Sharp. Searing. My back bowed as shrapnel tore into my skin, white-hot metal embedding itself between my ribs and shoulderblades. Not deep enough to kill. Just deep enough to remind me how close we'd come.
I pushed myself up. Forced my eyes open. Found Luan lying on the pavement a few feet away, unconscious. Blood on his face. Dirt in his hair. His body too still.
For a moment, I thought I'd lost him.
For a moment, I was back in that hallway fifteen years ago. Mira's hand in mine. Her voice soft, breaking.Promise me you'll keep him safe. No matter what happens.
I'd promised.
And I thought I'd broken it.
Mira. Luan's sister. The woman I loved in secret for years. The woman who left without looking back because staying would have killed her.
No one knew about us. Not Luan. Not his father. No one. We kept it hidden because that was the only way it could exist. And when she left, she took that secret with her.
I've carried it alone ever since.
I arch my back now, feel the pull of scar tissue. The wounds have healed, but the ache lingers.
