Just moves his hand from my back to my hip, pulling me slightly closer.
Thirty-eight.
Thirty-nine.
Forty.
The elevator slows.
My heart rate picks up.
I don't know what's waiting on the other side of those doors. More guards. More guns. More reminders that I've fallen back into a world I spent two years trying to escape.
Forty-one.
Forty-two.
The doors open.
And standing in the middle of the foyer?—
Sophia.
My brain stops working.
She's here.
She'shere.
In Denver.
Standing ten feet away from me with tears already streaming down her face.
"Marina."
Her voice breaks on my name.
I don't remember moving.
One second I'm in the elevator, Dante's hand on my hip.
The next I'm running.
My arms reach out before I'm even close enough to touch her. And then she's there—solid and real andSophia—and I crash into her so hard we both stumble.
Her arms wrap around me.
Tight.
So tight I can barely breathe.
I don't care.
I hold on just as hard.
"I'm here," she whispers into my hair. "I'm here. I've got you."
The tears come.
