29. Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
9-4-2024
I don't want death to part us.
-Jasmine
Sweat trickles down my brow and into my eyes while my breath bounces off the plastic interior of the respirator, making it even harder to draw air into my lungs. It’s sweltering, and I can see the reflection of the flames in the goggles of my mask, even with Sam holding me firmly to shield me from the sight.
I'm not ready to die. I've always dreamed of seeing the world and living freely, but I've changed my mind. I would gladly live as a prisoner for the rest of my life as long as it means I can stay with him. Even as my worst fear gnaws at me, it's nowhere near as horrifying as the moment I saw that man and thought he had killed Sam. It felt like my heart was turned to ash, blown away by the wind.
Another loud crash echoes, and Sam's arms tighten around me. His body, hunched over mine, jerks as the harsh hiss of his respirator drowns out the crackling of burning wood. Jonathan yells something, but my earpiece crackles with static due to the damage it sustained during my struggle with the man.
I clutch tighter to Sam's waist, my nails digging into the fabric of his clothes. Usually, his presence would calm me, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest tells me that his composed exterior is starting to crumble. He’s panicking . If he's freaked out, that can only mean one thing: this is it.
“I love you too.” I know my voice is broken, but there's no stopping the emotion, not when I know I'm about to lose the one thing I've done right in my entire life. I yelp as something hot touches my leg, and I squirm further into Sam's chest, but it’s too hard to move when he has such a death grip on me.
I thought that the moments I shared with Sam might help ease my fear—that whenever I remembered the horrifying flames, I would instead think of him. But right now, I can only focus on how they'll take yet another thing I love away from me. Yelling echoes through the space, and a sick, twisted part of my mind tells me that Jonathan is the first victim of the flames and that we are next.
“Grab her!” Sam's chest rumbles against mine, and a pair of hands is ripping at my back, but I keep trying to break free so I can hold onto him. If I'm going to die, I want to be in the safest place I know.
“God damn it, Jas, come on!” I know the voice, but don’t let up my hold.
As if Sam realizes I'm not going to listen, he starts shoving at my body, forcing my limbs off of him, and finally, a sob breaks free. An arm is wrapped around my throat, and I'm being pulled back, which only makes things worse when I see two figures replace my spot. Sam hunches forward to his hands to expose a thick piece of concrete layered over his back, restraining his calves.
One figure turns back, pointing at the person dragging me, and snaps, “Get the fuck out of here, little siren!”
“No!” I yell as Sharkie continues dragging me back, and I reach for the burning doorframe to stay within the crumbling building. If he's going to burn, I want to burn with him. Sharkie successfully frees me from the wood, and I kick against the grass, refusing to let my line of sight waver from Tide and Jonathan as they push against the ledge restraining Sam.
Sharkie pushes me backward, falling to the pavement and yanking my mask off. I gasp and squint against the bright light.
“Damn it, Jasmine, you have to calm down; they'll get him!”
Just as the words are out of her mouth, I break free from her grasp. How is she not more panicked? The person she loves is inside, too. I throw myself onto my stomach, digging my heels into the street and gripping the road's edge to push myself up.
I'm not leaving him.
“Help me!” Sharkie yells, and I take off in a dead sprint toward the building. The air is knocked out of my lungs when a weight three times my size slams into my back. Not just one pair of hands, but two are trying to hold me in place. Looking up, I see the large building fully engulfed in terrifying flames. Someone new starts tugging on the back of my shirt.
A large blast burst through the door, flames soaring as the red and orange hues dance menacingly. I feel as if my soul has left my body, and I can only sit in shock, my entire being shattering with a cry that breaks the little hope I have left. Tears stream down my face as I scream until my voice falters, only to scream some more.
I feel empty as I try to recall every fleeting smile I ever drew from him, how his scarred skin felt under my fingertips, his genuine laughter shaking his chest, and how his head would tilt back with the sound.
I can't look away as the top of the building begins to concave and tumble lower. No matter how much Sharkie tries to pull my head into her shoulders, I’m desperately clawing at the ground in a futile attempt to go back inside and hold onto whatever remains of him, just as he once held me. I want to protect and offer him the safety I always felt in his arms.
I don't want death to part us.
My vision is blurry, filled with black spots, and I refuse to draw in any air. The person to my right lets go and stands up; I can barely make out their silhouette as they take off, running toward someone else. Sharkie lets go, and then the other person follows, but I have no fight left. I close my eyes and curl up on the ground, burying my face in my hands as my whole body shakes, feeling as if it has lost the very essence that kept it alive. Even as the grass crunches before me, I can't move.
“Shhh, it's okay.”
It feels as if I can still hear Sam trying to calm me down. I already miss that side of him—the side he only showed to me.
“Are those tears for me, little siren?” I jolt my head toward the sound and see Tide ripping off his respirator while Sharkie falls into his chest, contradicting the affectionate gesture by throwing a punch into his side. I quickly turn the other way and spot Jonathan running his hand over his beard as he stands awkwardly in front of Delilah.
A pair of hands suddenly grasp my cheeks, drawing my attention to the man sitting so close I can almost touch him. Hesitantly, I pull off his mask, revealing his stunning deep brown eyes as they dart between mine.
I touch everywhere I can. His face, neck, chest, but I stop when I see his legs. His pants are torn and bloody. Below the red liquid, there's deep bruising on one side, and the other has a gnarly gash across it. My lips part, but my throat burns so badly that I can't form a proper word, let alone a complete sentence. He’s hurt, but he’s…
He jerks my head again, pulling my attention back to him. It’s a strange feeling to be able to breathe while still sensing that I’m not getting enough air.
But that’s what being with Sam is like.
It's pulling in the rapidly depleting oxygen, savoring the feeling of my lungs being full again, only to make me feel like I'm gasping for air all over again. It's horrifying, like fire, but just as beautiful.
“I guess it isn't time for us to meet in hell yet. It's a shame. I was looking forward to taking you home.” he murmurs.
I choke back a laugh, and his mouth is on mine without warning. It's not pretty by any means—my snot trickles onto my lips, and my tears slick the way for his thumbs to brush my cheekbones. The smell of burnt wood clings to him, masking the scent I had come to love and adore. His tongue pushes past my lips, but I barely get a taste before he pulls back, huffing for air.
“We need to—”
“I’ve been through a lot worse, darlin’.” Sam huffs, cutting off my statement while leaning back in again.
“We still need to get everyone checked out.” I glance at the authoritative voice behind me before Sam's lips meet mine again. Moe stands frozen, not even looking at us as he speaks. I follow his intense gaze to see Delilah and Jonathan climbing into a blacked-out vehicle. Typically, I’d try to read into it, but I only want to focus on Sam's hand curling into the hair at the back of my head, pulling me towards his chest.
“I'm so fuckin’ tired of fire.” Tide's voice grumbles, and Sharkie laughs. That makes two of us. Sam lets me go, and I stand, keeping my hand on his waist as Moe and Tide help him to his feet. I'm terrified that if I don't touch him, he'll disappear.
Once he's stable, I reluctantly step back, and Sharkie wraps her arm over my shoulder as we follow along.
“I like the crazy side of you. It felt good to see you fight back.”
I snort dryly and raise an eyebrow, marveling at how oddly unique she is. That’s what I appreciate most about her—she’s unapologetically herself, no matter how twisted that may be.
“I mean, it was a fair fight, you know? I wasn't caught off guard like during our first spar,” she continues, treating this like some sort of bonding moment. I start to understand her perspective and manage a slight grin. Out of everyone, she’s the only one I expected to treat me the same way, even after everything. She understands how exhausting it is to live with the mistakes made for good reasons. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m a terrible friend.
“Thanks, Shark,” I mutter.
I try to focus on each step Sam takes, but movement in my peripheral vision makes me scan the area. That's when I finally notice how many people are out here–most are dressed in lavish, flashy clothes that I recognize from the night, while others are soldiers from our team scraping the ground in an attempt to collect any evidence that we were here.
"Don’t thank me yet. Caspian is still upset, so I can’t promise that things will be easy at home. But between Sam and me, I think you’re kind of stuck with us.” She laughs. I don’t even want to think about the trouble I'm about to face, so I’ll just focus on how lucky I am.
My attention shifts to Dove, leaning against mine and Sam’s vehicle with her arms crossed over her chest, staring in my direction. I’d love to rush over to her, but as expected, Tide has members already fanning out toward everyone involved, including me, to gather a summary of the mission report.
Sharkie pulls away and glares at the man trying to talk to her while another person approaches me. Despite the rookie’s stuttering questions, my attention remains divided between Sam and Dove, ensuring both stay within my line of sight and don’t disappear into thin air. I’m still not convinced I’m not just having a fever dream—wondering if this will all fade into darkness when I wake up in a hospital bed.
Luckily, the reports didn’t take too long, but everyone looked ready to rip off someone’s head. We’re all exhausted, and some of us are sore. What’s worse is knowing we have many more places to visit before considering returning to our base. The sun beams off the matte black truck as Tide and Moe carefully load Sam into the backseat.
"Get the cleanup crew out here! Casey, get the media and cover this as a freak fire. Someone get me O’Handon, so I can clear my father's goddamn name!” Rurik barks over his shoulder as he steps beside us. I was hoping Dove would keep him cuffed for a bit longer.
I step away before Sam can reach for my hand and head toward my sister.
"I have to go before our dad sees me out here. If you don’t mind, I'll use your car. Don’t worry; I already gave the scary guy your stuff," she mutters, waving in Sam's direction.
"Thank you, and that's... um." I trail off nervously. "That’s Sam."
"He’s quiet and looks mean, so I’ll call him the scary guy."
I try to take her in since I don't know if my mother will ever allow me to see her again, especially after tonight.
"Promise you'll take care of yourself?"
“I promise. Can you keep a room open for me over there? If I ever manage to escape this psychopath, I’m going to need it.” I glance back at Rurik as she gestures toward him with an exasperated sigh. Now that I think about it, he reminds me a lot of Sam.
“You can stay with me, but if a wedding happens, send me an invitation, okay?”
Her expression softens, and in an instant, she wraps her arms around my neck. I hold her close, not wanting to let go.
“I’ll invite you if you promise to bring your scary friends.”
I let out a laugh that sounds a bit choked. They're not just friends; they're family.
“Come on, ангел.” Dove jumps at Rurik's voice, and we both glare at him.
“What does that mean?” I mutter to Dove, and he rolls his eyes as we pretend he can’t hear us talking.
“Hell, if I know, and I'm not going to figure it out.” she huffs.
“Watch it. My name was just cleared, which means your family owes me,” he says in a low voice. I wince for Dove, but she only growls in frustration in response. I can only imagine what that means. If he’s been innocent this whole time, then he must have gone through hell for years for no reason. There’s no telling how many hits his business or social standing took.
“Good lu—”
My words are abruptly cut off by a scratchy, deep, hoarse voice that tightens my shoulders and churns my stomach.
“I should’ve known you were the cause! I swear, Bravetti, you’ll regret this!”
The voice grows louder the closer it gets. Dove and I shrink back while Rurik maintains a blank, unamused expression. He pulls out a cigarette and places it between his lips.
“Jasmine,” Sam calls out, his voice a beacon calling me home. When I turn to run and seek refuge in his arms, I collide with a plush surface, and meaty hands encircle my biceps.
I don’t need to look up to recognize the familiar scent of stale cigarette smoke. I know it isn’t from the stick Rurik just lit; this smell is different, as if it had emerged from an old, creaky desk with chipped legs—a surface I used to pick at when I was bored during long business days.
I lift my gaze, keeping my head tilted down. My dad's face is filled with confusion as he studies me. Then, the realization hits, deepening the lines on his skin as anger takes over.
I lack the energy to argue, so I lower my head again. He loosens his grip on me until it’s completely gone. Gravel crunches under his boots, and people chat among themselves all around us. I expected him to turn red from yelling, accuse me of putting Dove in danger, question why I hadn’t informed him I was here, or even scold me for not providing enough information. Instead, I was taken aback by how quickly he chose to shun me. I could have anticipated that reaction from my mother if she were here, but not from him.
“Not ONE but BOTH of my daughters?! I swear, boy, once I get my hands on you—”
My attention is immediately drawn as I wrap my hand around my dad's arm while Dove jumps in front of an unbothered Rurik. I swear, he has a death wish at this rate.
“This wasn’t him!” I blurt out before I even realize what I'm saying. He remains unmovable despite my efforts to tug at his expensive suit jacket. It reminds me of when I was a child, trying to stop him from seeing my favorite dolls in the fireplace because of my mother's anger.
Thankfully, Dove does what she does best–glares at my father, crossing her arms over her chest and stomping her foot like a prissy mafia princess.
“Where are my letters?” she demands, her voice cutting through the tension. The question seems to throw him off his rage-fueled fit. Slowly, he straightens his back and adjusts the collar of his suit.
“In the office,” he replies, his tone bleak and barely audible before he tilts his head toward me.
I let go and step back, ready to leave before things turn into a war between the mobs; I've had enough battle time for now. But my father's clipped voice stops me: “I didn’t tell you that you could leave yet.”
Rurik flicks his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out with the toe of his shiny shoe.
“When you’re ready to discuss business, you know where to find me. You have a lot to make up for, Mr. O'Hanson,” he says, patting Dove’s head.
“And why don’t I have them?” Dove snaps at my father, delivering a harsh slap to Rurik's wrist, making him huff as he steps away. My father cups her cheeks despite her protests, checking to ensure she’s genuinely okay.
“Because Melione was in a private place. The smallest thing could have put her in danger. If they knew what she was doing or what she was writing…” My dad trails off and turns toward me, causing me to stumble back. He still looks angry. Even though I want to appreciate that he might be concerned for my safety, I don’t want one of his lectures.
He steps forward, and before I can react, his hand wraps around the nape of my neck, holding me in place as he examines my soot-covered, tattered clothing.
“Let’s go home. We’ll get you cleaned up and looked at. Everything’s okay now.” His words catch me off guard, drawing my attention back to him. Instead of feeling relieved that he still loves me like any father should, I’m stuck. That place isn’t my home anymore. It stopped being my home when he allowed my mother to send me to England.
“Your mother will want to see you.” It sounds like he's trying to bribe me, but that was a terrible line to throw out. He realizes this due to the synchronized scoff between Dove and myself.
“Fine. I want to see you.” he concedes.
A shuffle behind me is followed by a hard thud like something hit a vehicle.
“Jasmine…”
The tension in my shoulders loosens at the sound of his voice. If there's one thing I've learned, it’s that while I love the safety net Sam provides, I appreciate even more how he brings out my strong side—even if it’s a little crazy and unhinged. Just as he likes to control what happens to him or what he inflicts, I want to control my decisions and my life.
My dad stares over my shoulder with an expression I can’t decipher, and Dove takes the opportunity to run toward the vehicle that Sam and I used to drive. My father doesn’t look back or move; he just holds onto me, and the muscles in his round jaw flex.
“Jasmine?” He says my name as if testing its sound, then shakes his head with a sigh. “You’re not coming home, are you?”
I shake my head in response. “And I’m not giving you any more details either.”
“Sam, get your arse back in a seat before you hurt yourself!” Tide booms, but none of the others seem to move a muscle.
Seeing my father this way shows why I’m drawn to someone like Sam—they’re safe.
Although he followed my mother's wishes and couldn’t save me from unknown dangers, he always tried to protect me. He was an unbreakable fortress amid chaos—intimidating and capable of instilling fear—yet deep down, underneath that big, scary mafia boss exterior, he was a loving person, just like Sam.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, catching his attention as his arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me close faster than I can process.
“I don’t want your apologies. I just want you to keep writing and calling. I’ll send a jet for you to visit anytime, but…” He pauses, drawing me closer, pressing his cheek against my hair. “Only if you promise me you’re happy.”
I laugh. I suppose I find humor in things I shouldn't, but it's funny to reflect on it. For all those years, I tried to distance myself from my team because I felt like I didn't belong, yet I couldn't have imagined being happier. Even when I received nothing but irritated grumbles and sideways glances from Sam, I still felt like I was exactly where I belonged.
I know where I belong.
"I promise," I mutter, gently wriggling out of his grasp to take a step back, but I bump into an unexpected barrier as I do. A hand finds its way to the small of my back, pulling me close. I can't help but smile as I feel his chest slowly rise and fall–as if he just took a breath of relief–and his lips brush against the top of my hair.
My dad rummages through his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and tries to hand me a card. I raise my hand to stop him, and he glares at me.
“This isn’t money; it’s the number you’ll call once you’re settled in somewhere and checked out. My business partner will provide directions to the private plane, which will take you back to your location so you can visit whenever you’d like or travel wherever you want.”
“On one condition,” I say as I bargain, and Sam huffs while my father waves the piece of plastic at me.
“I need you to dispose of anything I sent you that could harm my team,” I explain gently, and he nods without hesitation. “I’m serious. If there’s anyone else besides Rurik who knows about this, I need them dealt with. This is important to me.”
My dad sighs and runs his hand over his face before nodding again. “No one else knew—I didn't want to risk you any more than you already were. Besides, there’s better information out there that I can trade.”
I take the card, and he attempts to brush his fingers through my disheveled hair.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to find where your sister has run off to again .” He mutters quietly and pulls away. Straightening his shoulders, he waves to the guards around his vehicle.
“Oh, and bring him when you visit.” He says as if it's not up for negotiation, “I may be old, but I’m not blind, Melione.”
I roll my eyes and turn toward Sam, trying to get him to step back into the vehicle, but he’s focused on pushing me in first. Reluctantly, I glance up at him and then steal one last look at my father. I know I’ll see him again one day, and I want to give Sam the proper introduction he deserves to my father. Without saying goodbye, I slide into the seat.
“We’re not going anywhere until Laura clears everyone.” Tide snaps, and Sam shuts his door to help me with my seatbelt despite being injured.
“Cas’.” Moe leans over my lap, trying to get Tide's attention, while Sharkie, tense in the passenger seat, adds to the charged atmosphere with her silence and bunched shoulders.
“Sam inhaled too much smoke… again . There was a concrete slab on him, for Christ's sake! Cordelia was too close to the building without a respirator. Jasmine…” I start to tune Tide out as he curses, but Sam's steady voice keeps me grounded as he smacks Moe's shoulder to get him off me.
“I had a good time. We should do more missions like that.” I fidget with my ring as I nod, agreeing with Sam because it was very fun if you subtract all the emotional crap that has me feeling drained. Sam's nose brushes the side of my head, making me tilt it back so he can trace it against my cheekbone.
“Don’t you dare even think about taking that off…” He mutters against my ear. “When we’re cleared, we’re going back home, and I want everyone to know just how crazy you are about me.”
My head tilts into his, feeling the tickle of his scruff.
“What about…” I trail off, remembering what I did.
“I already forgave you,” he reassures me.
“But can you trust me?” I ask.
A long silence stretches through the vehicle. I understand how difficult it is to regain trust–Sharkie still struggles with the uncertainty of whether she will ever fully regain Tides' trust. I tilt my head to gauge his reaction, but instead of seeing deep contemplation, I find him looking at me with pure confusion.
“You faced your worst fear for me. I’d be a fool not to trust you.”
“No, I ran through something scary because I finally realized it wasn’t my worst fear.”
“What’s your worst fear then?”
“Losing you.”
As soon as those words leave my lips, I can feel sweat starting to bead on my palms, so I clench my hands into the fabric of my pants. We’ve shared deeper thoughts before that held more meaning, but this time, it feels different because I’m admitting that there are things worse than dancing with flames.
“Good thing it's until death do us part,” he mutters, and I lean back into him, letting that simple statement wash over me.
“And even after.” I grin.