"Stay," I whispered. "Tonight. Just… stay with me."
"Are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
He settled beside me, pulled me against his chest. We lay like that in the darkness—fully clothed, wrapped around each other, his hand stroking my hair, my fingers tracing patterns on his chest.
Not making love. Not yet. Just being together. Holding on.
"Whatever happens tomorrow," he murmured against my hair, "know that you changed everything. You made me believe I could be more than what Marco tried to turn me into. That I deserved this—you, us, a future."
"You do deserve it." I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "We both do."
"Tell me more about the future you imagined," I murmured. "The house. The kids. All of it."
So he did. Painted pictures with words—a yellow house with a wraparound porch, a garden where we'd grow tomatoes and basil, kids' laughter filling rooms that had only known silence.Sunday dinners that smelled like Nonna's kitchen. Bedtime stories and scraped knees and the beautiful, mundane chaos of a real family.
"I want to give you that," he said quietly. "Want to be the man who makes you coffee every morning and argues with you about whether it's sauce or gravy. Want to watch our kids grow up safe and loved and never knowing what fear tastes like."
"We'll have it," I promised, even though I had no idea if we'd survive tomorrow. "All of it. After we end Marco, we'll disappear into that life and never look back."
"You really believe that?"
"I have to. Otherwise, what are we fighting for?"
He kissed my forehead, my temple, my hair. "You're right. We'll make it happen. Together."
"Together," I echoed.
We fell asleep like that—wrapped around each other, fully clothed, hearts beating in sync. The most intimate thing I'd ever experienced, and neither of us had removed a single piece of clothing.
Because sometimes, intimacy isn't about sex.
Sometimes, it's just about choosing to stay.
I woke to Alessio's phone buzzing on the nightstand.
His arm tightened around me—even half-asleep, always protecting, always assessing. Then his eyes opened, sharp and alert in a way that had nothing to do with the warmth of the bed or the woman in his arms.
He reached for it and read the message. His jaw tightened.
"Domenico," he said quietly. "Marco's intensifying the search. Offering bounties. Mobilizing resources across three states. He knows we're still in the region."
The peaceful bubble burst completely.
I sat up, reality crashing back. "How long do we have?"
"Days. Maybe less." He swung his legs out of bed, already shifting into tactical mode. "We can't stay here much longer. But we also can't keep running without a plan to end this permanently."
He was right. Running was temporary. Marco would never stop hunting us. We needed to eliminate the threat, not just evade it.
"Then we go on offense," I said, the decision crystallizing as I spoke. "We get the evidence that destroys him. End this our way, on our terms."
Alessio turned to look at me. "What are you thinking?"
"My father hosts his annual charity gala in three days," I said, mind already racing through possibilities. "Saturday night. Two hundred guests, society elite, politicians, business leaders. He uses it every year to network, to show he's legitimate and respectable." My mouth twisted. "The irony."
"He'll have heavy security."
