I know it isn't.
When this is finished—when Alejandro is dead and the threat is neutralised—Bruno will find me. He'll corner me somewhere private. And he'll make me pay for every second of suffering I caused.
I'll let him.
I'll stand there and take every punch. Every blow. Every ounce of rage he needs to release.
Because I earned it.
My eyes find Marina.
She sits at the far end of the table. Apart from the others. Her hands are folded in her lap. Her face is pale.
She's not looking at me.
She's staring at the table. At her hands. At anything except my face.
Something cold settles in my chest.
I know that look.
I've seen it before. On the faces of people who've been betrayed. Who've discovered that someone they trusted was capable of things they never imagined.
She's wondering if she knows me at all.
She's wondering how I could watch Sophia scream and say nothing.
She's wondering what else I'm capable of.
She's wondering if she can ever trust me again.
The answer is probably no.
I knew this would happen. I knew the moment I agreed to Alejandro's plan that I would lose her. That she would look at me like I'm a stranger.
Like I'm a monster.
Like the man she thought she knew never existed.
I want to go to her. I want to take her hands. I want to explain everything—Alejandro, Giuseppe, the truth about my family, the impossible choice I faced.
But I can't.
Not yet.
Not until tomorrow.
Not until Alejandro is dead and the surveillance is gone and I can finally tell her the truth.
By then, it might be too late.
She might already be gone.
Marina finally looks up.
Our eyes meet across the table.
I see it all.
