“Where are you flying to, Mrs. De Luca?”

I muster up a smile for the driver, who’s probably been watching me dab at my tears with my sleeve for the last thirty minutes. “San Francisco.”

“Beautiful city. You’re visiting family?”

“A friend.” With the Iron Raptors no longer a threat, I called Del last night and asked if I could stay with her for a bit.

“I hope you enjoy it. We’re just five minutes away from the airport.”

I wrap my arms around myself.

Yesterday, when I made my decision to leave, I thought it would bring some comfort, but I barely slept all night. I kept waiting for a gut feeling to hit, for something to reassure me that I’m doing the right thing.

It never came.

The car glides through the airport gates, and the private terminal comes into view. I should be relieved that by the end of today, I’ll be sitting in Del’s living room. Instead, there’s a gnawing sense of loss deep inside my belly.

I couldn’t stomach saying goodbye to Nero without crumbling. So I said nothing. I just left.

It’s been less than forty minutes, and I already miss him. I miss his touch. I miss his smell. I miss the way his skin feels beneath my hands. The whispered endearments. The kisses against my hair. The way his hands feel enveloping mine. I miss the burn of his scruff against my thighs. The silkiness of his hair as I run it through my fingers.

Most of all, I miss his eyes. The way they can say so much without him saying a word.

I did the right thing. So why doesn’t any part of it feel good?

The driver stops at the entrance, and I force myself to move, to get out of the car, to walk into the terminal. I barely register the sleek private waiting area or the woman who greets me with a polite smile and offers me a coffee.

I choke out, ‘No, thank you,’ and then sit down in the farthest chair in the corner, hoping she won’t try to start a conversation.

This is for the best.

That’s what I keep telling myself, but it’s not working. The truth is, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave Nero, even though I know staying means losing more of who I used to be. Who I’ve always thought I should be. The person I’ve become in his world is someone I hardly recognize—a person who can kill without guilt, who can justify the unthinkable.

But I love him.

God, do I love him.

And maybe that’s why I have to go—because the love I have for him is too big, too consuming, and it’s turning me into someone I don’t want to be.

A soft chime echoes through the waiting area, and a woman in a uniform appears in the doorway. “Mrs. De Luca, we’re ready to board.”

I nod. The motion feels mechanical, like I’m watching someone else move my head. I wipe my clammy palms against my jeans and get to my feet.

The woman leads me through the terminal, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. We reach the door that opens out to the tarmac where the private jet is waiting. The stairs have been lowered, and there’s a lone figure standing at the bottom, ready to escort me up.

We step outside.

This is it.

All I have to do is walk up those stairs, and I’ll be free. Free from the life that’s twisted me into something unrecognizable. Free from the love that’s somehow both the best thing and the worst thing that’s happened to me.

But my feet won’t move.

I bite down on my lips to stop them from quivering and stand there, staring at the steps.

It’s like my body is rebelling against my mind.

Go. Just go. You’ve made your choice, and now you have to live with it.

“Blake!”

The sound of my name jolts me from my thoughts.

“Blake, wait!”

It’s Cleo. She’s running toward me, her red hair whipping around her face. My eyes widen. Why is she here? Did Nero send her? If he’s decided he won’t let me leave after all, why didn’t he come himself?

And why does the thought of him forcing me to stay fill me with so much damn relief?

Cleo comes to a stop before me and bends over, pressing her palms against her knees. “Fuck, Gem’s right. I’m out of shape,” she pants. “Give me a second.”

“What are you doing here?” My voice trembles, caught somewhere between relief and confusion.

She tilts her head up, looking at me from under her thick lashes. “Rafe told me you’re leaving on his plane. And I just…” She takes a few short breaths. “I kept thinking about our conversation at the hospital, about how I told you I still felt guilty about all the crap that went down when I got taken by my dad, and I just got this idea in my head that maybe I scared you. You had this freaked-out look on your face. I didn’t mean that I think you’ll never feel better about what happened, or something crazy like that. I mean, I am totally fine! I say stupid, thoughtless things all the time. I didn’t mean to make you want to run away.”

A nearly hysterical laugh bubbles out of me. “Cleo, the problem isn’t what I’m feeling. It’s what I’m not feeling. I don’t feel guilty for shooting Ekaterina. Not even a little bit.” My voice chokes. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know who I’ve become.”

Cleo’s gaze softens. She takes a step closer, her eyes searching mine. “That’s what’s bugging you?”

“I’m all twisted up,” I whimper. “My dad was a criminal too. He was a terrible person. I spent all my life trying to prove to everyone in my town that I wasn’t anything like him. That I was good. That I had integrity. And within weeks of being here, I’ve become a killer. I’m not even sorry that I killed Ekaterina.”

Cleo reaches out and gently cups my face with both hands, her thumbs brushing away my tears. “I get it. You’re scared, and that’s okay. But don’t think for a second that what you did means you’re some kind of monster. You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I’m scared of who I’m becoming.” The words barely make it past the lump in my throat. “I want to be with Nero, but I’m terrified of what being with him is turning me into.”

She sighs. “Come with me. Let’s sit down and talk this through. No pressure, no expectations. Just two girls having a conversation.”

I hesitate, my gaze shifting back to the stairs of the plane.

“It’ll still be here after we talk if you decide you still want to go,” Cleo says. “I promise. He’s our guy, so he’s on our clock.”

Talking to someone sounds…nice. But I don’t know Cleo all that well. Can I trust her?

Screw it. I’ve got nothing to lose.

So I nod. “Okay.”

We walk back to the terminal in silence, the wind tugging at our hair and clothes. Inside, Cleo leads me to a small café I hadn’t noticed before and replaces us a table close to the window.

“Let’s get some food,” Cleo suggests. Her voice is light, but there’s an undertone of concern. “I always think better on a full stomach.”

I manage a small smile. “That sounds nice.”

She orders for both of us—club sandwiches, chips, and two glasses of Coke. When the food arrives, she nudges one of the plates toward me, her emerald eyes urging me to take a bite.

I pick up the sandwich and nibble at the corner. It’s bland and unappealing, but it’s something to focus on other than the storm of emotions inside me.

“So,” Cleo begins, her tone gentle, “why don’t you tell me exactly what’s on your mind?”

I put the sandwich down. “I feel like I’ve lost myself in this dark, ruthless world.”

Cleo nods, her expression thoughtful. “I get that. Believe me, I do.”

“Do you? Doesn’t it just feel normal to you? You grew up in it.”

“And I hated every second of it. My parents were awful, just like your dad. I decided from an early age I wanted nothing to do with this life. I swore I’d never marry a mobster, and that I’d replace a way to leave this world and all the things that go with it—the violence, the danger, the constant moral compromises.”

My eyes widen with shock.

She smirks. “What? Nero never told you? The only reason I married Rafe was to help my sister, Gem. She was engaged to Rafe but fell in love with another guy. I walked down that aisle swearing to myself that I’d never have a real relationship with him. I was convinced that besides being smoking hot, he had no redeeming qualities.”

I drag my Coke closer and take a sip. “How did you deal with it?”

Cleo’s lips press together as she considers her words. “It wasn’t easy. There were times I questioned everything—my choices, my morals, my sense of right and wrong. But what I realized is that it’s not about shutting out the darkness completely. It’s about replaceing a way to shine your light, even when the darkness is all around you.”

I swallow hard, her words hitting close to home. “But what if I can’t?”

She reaches across the table, takes my hand in hers, and squeezes it gently. “Why did you shoot Ekaterina?”

“Because she was about to kill me.”

“And how did you get into that situation in the first place?”

“I…I guess I was alone in the bathroom with her because I had tried to replace a way to get help. For Nero and I.”

“So you did something really damn brave to help save the man you love. What’s monstrous about that?”

I bite down on the corner of my mouth.

“Do you love Nero?”

“Yes,” I answer softly.

“Why do you love him?”

A million reasons come to mind. “The way he takes total responsibility for his actions. I’ve never met anyone who does it to the same extent that he does. When he makes mistakes, he commits fully to fixing them. I admire that a lot about him.”

Cleo stays silent, letting me continue.

“I love how loyal he is, and how far he’s willing to go for the people he loves.”

She smiles. “I know a bit about that.”

“His love is intense, possessive, all-consuming. He doesn’t hold anything back. And that can be overwhelming sometimes, but most of the time…”

“It just takes your breath away in the best kind of way?”

“Exactly.”

Cleo’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “If you were ever locked up in jail in a foreign country, and you had one phone call, who—”

“I’d call him.” I don’t even need to think about it.

“So you trust him with your life?”

“Yes. And he’s just…fun.” A smile tugs on my lips. “He has a sense of humor. He’s so confident. And he’s a great cook. And he’s stupidly hot.”

Cleo laughs. “That’s a lot of good qualities for someone who’s a killer.”

“I don’t think of him as one. When I look at him, that’s not who I see.”

“It sounds like you’ve accepted the darkness in him. You just haven’t accepted the darkness within you.”

My eyes widen. Accept the darkness within me? The very thought sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m not sure I can.”

“There’s darkness in all of us. You don’t have to embrace it, but you do have to accept that it’s part of you. It doesn’t define you. It’s just one piece of the puzzle.” She takes a sip of her drink. “By the way, there are plenty of people not in the mob who do bad things.’

She’s right. People like Brett.

People like me.

“But where there’s darkness, there’s light. And just like you listed all the light you see in Nero, I’m sure he could tell you all the light he sees in you. He’s probably the one who sees it better than anyone, because he needs it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes, Rafe comes home with the heavy scent of cruelty and fear practically radiating off him. I don’t delude myself by thinking he just pushes some papers around at a desk. But when he comes to me, no matter what kind of a day he’s had, he’s still my husband. My love. My best friend. And there’s something beautiful in being that one person this powerful, terrifying man can just drop the mask and be himself with.”

Tears well up again, but this time, they’re not just tears of fear and despair. There’s a swell of hope there too, a reminder of this great foundation of love, loyalty, and even integrity that Nero and I share.

Cleo’s voice softens even more. “You don’t have to do this alone, Blake. And you don’t have to run away to protect yourself. You’re stronger than you think.”

I take a shaky breath, tightening my grip around Cleo’s hand. “But what if staying means I lose the best parts of myself? What if I become someone even Nero won’t recognize?”

She gives me a reassuring smile. “Nero fell in love with you because of who you are, not because of the things you’ve done. And he knows that the world he’s brought you into has its own dangers. But he loves you, and he’ll help you through it. You just have to give him the chance.”

Can I?

The clouds outside part, and sunlight pours through the window, warming my skin. Something shifts inside me. The fear is still there, but it’s no longer paralyzing. I don’t have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure. I don’t want to run away.

“Thank you,” I whisper, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go.

Her eyes are filled with warmth. “Anytime. Now, let’s finish our lunch and then figure out what you want to do next.”

I pick up the sandwich and take a few more bites. What to do next…

Ah. Of course. “I want to go back to Nero, but I need to make a stop somewhere first,” I say, glancing at Cleo. “Do you mind if I make a quick call?”

“Sure.”

I dig inside my purse for my phone and the small “Get Well” card I kept, then dial the number written on it.

“Vita? It’s Blake. I’d like to meet.”

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