Page 129 of The Ruin I Chose

“Roxy. Breathe,” he said, gripping my shoulder.

Air thinned around me. My lids got heavy. My knees buckled. The world tilted and I collapsed.

I woke up on the living room couch, drenched in sweat. My mother hovered nearby, pressing a cold cloth to my forehead. Kyra was sitting on the terrace with Vihaan—curious but oblivious.

Santino sat across from me, elbows on his knees, head bowed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He came over and crouched beside me.

Brushed a stray strand from my face, then rubbed my cheek with the back of his fingers. His touch was gentle. Hesitant at first. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to care this much.

“Hey,” he smiled. “For a second, you scared me—little Volpi.”

I sat up slowly and took the water he offered.

“You okay?” he asked as I stood.

“Uh-huh. Need some air.”

I walked to the terrace and stood by the parapet, holding the glass of water.

“Is he…”

My throat went dry, despite the water. Words wouldn’t come. I sucked in a breath and stared into the distance. I couldn’t look at Santino.

“No,” he said. “He’s alive.”

His voice cracked on the last word. I turned to him, biting the inside of my cheek. Tears burned behind my eyes. I hugged him, squeezing him, holding onto him to anchor myself. I cried into his chest. He rubbed my back and kissed the top of my head.

“There was an incident. He’s injured,” he said, pausing.

“He’s stable now. But it was close.”

“Where… where is he?” I asked through tears.

“In a hospital in Kuala Lumpur. He can come home next week.”

Vihaan came and hugged me. “Shh. It’ll be okay.”

I broke down in his arms again. Tears poured out like a flood I’d been holding back for years. I clung to him like a child. Kyra crawled into my lap, and I held her tight.

Vihaan let me cry. He didn’t interrupt. He just sat there—quiet, respectful.

“Go! He needs you.”

I looked at Vihaan. He gave a courageous nod and kissed my forehead.

Later, in the dead of night, we took a flight to Kuala Lumpur. I lay my head on Santino’s shoulder and linked my fingers with his. I didn’t trust my body to hold itself together without something to anchor me. His presence steadied me. With him around, Marcello felt closer, somehow. He made me feel safe.

He rubbed his battered fingers over my knuckles. Then he reached into his sweatshirt.

“He wanted me to give this to you.”

I put my hand over his pocket.

“Don’t. Let him give whatever it is to me.”

“Get some sleep.” He leaned his forehead onto mine.

“Looks like you need it more,” I said, gently tracing the scrape on his forehead.