Even if it means destroying myself in the process.
Marina
The bed shifts.
I keep my eyes closed. Keep my breathing slow and even.
Dante thinks I'm asleep.
I want to see him when he doesn't know I'm watching.
The mattress dips as he stands. I hear the soft rustle of fabric. The slide of a drawer opening.
Through my lashes, barely cracked, I watch him move through the darkness.
He's getting dressed. Black shirt. Black pants.
My stomach tightens.
It's been three days since we arrived at the compound. Three days of him never leaving my side.
Until now.
The clock on the nightstand glows 3:07 a.m.
Dante pulls on his boots.
He pauses by the dresser. Runs his hand through his hair.
Sighs.
The sound is heavy. Weighted with something I can't name.
I watch him check his phone. Watch his jaw clench at whatever he sees on the screen. Watch him slide the phone into his pocket and stand there for a long moment, staring at nothing.
He's nervous.
Dante, is nervous about whatever he's doing tonight.
My heart beats faster. I force myself to stay still. To keep breathing like I'm deep in sleep.
He turns toward the bed.
I close my eyes completely. Let my face go slack.
His footsteps are silent on the carpet. I wouldn't know he was moving if I couldn't feel the air shift as he approaches.
The mattress dips again. Just slightly. He's leaning over me.
His breath is warm against my hair.
Then his lips press against my forehead. Soft. Gentle. The kind of kiss you give someone you're afraid you'll never see again.
"Ti amo, mia cara."
The words are barely a whisper.
My chest aches.
