Chapter Eleven #2
Bruno collapses, bleeding out fast now, hands scrabbling uselessly at the wounds. Alessandro watches him die with no expression at all.
Then he turns to me.
The transformation is instantaneous. The dead eyes become human again, concerned, terrified, and devastated. The monster becomes a man.
“Elena.” His hands are gentle as his knife slices through the zip ties. “Cristo, Elena, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? Did they—”
“They didn’t.” The words come out shaky. “You got here before, they didn’t—”
The zip ties fall away. His arms come around me, and the dam breaks. Sobbing against his chest, surrounded by bodies and blood and the aftermath of violence, but all that exists is his warmth, his presence, the way his hands shake as they hold me.
“I’ve got you.” His voice is wrecked. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I promise. I promise.”
“You came.” I can’t stop crying. “How did you, they killed your men, how did you—”
“Tracking your phone. I asked Marco to keep an eye on it. You didn’t think I’d leave you without being able to track you? Didi you?” His laugh is broken. “I’ve been tracking you since you left. When the signal started moving, when my men didn’t respond—”
He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to. The bodies around us tell the story clearly enough.
“We need to move.”
Marco appears at the van opening. “Police will be here soon. And boss, the feds. We need to clean this up fast.”
“Get a crew here. I want this van disappeared and these bodies dumped where they’ll be found.
Send Greco a message he can’t ignore.” Alessandro is already lifting me, cradling me against his chest like something precious.
“And Marco? Pull everyone back from Elena’s shop.
She was right the protection makes her a target. ”
“Boss—”
“She was right. I made her a target by claiming her.” His arms tighten around me. “Find another way. Something she won’t notice. Something that won’t paint a sign on her back.”
Marco nods and disappears to coordinate.
Alessandro carries me to a car, not the Mercedes, something nondescript and unremarkable. The driver takes off the moment we’re inside, leaving the scene of carnage behind.
“Where are we going?” The question comes out small.
“Safe house. Somewhere nobody knows about.” His hand cups my face, thumb brushing away tears. “Elena, I need you to listen to me. What you just saw, what I did—”
“You saved me.”
“I butchered three men in front of you.”
“You saved me.” The words come firmer this time. “They were going to, they said they were going to—” I can’t finish. Can’t say it out loud.
“I know.” His jaw clenches. “It what men like that do, Elena and I’m so sorry. Cristo, Elena, I’ve never felt rage like that. Never felt so close to losing control completely.”
“But you didn’t lose control. You were—” The word comes slowly, surprising even as it’s spoken. “Efficient. Precise. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve done this before. Killed people like this.”
“Yes.” No apology. No excuse. Just truth.
I should be terrified. Even disgusted. And probably be running as far away as possible from a man who just disemboweled someone without blinking.
But all that exists is gratitude and relief. The bone-deep certainty Alessandro would burn the entire world down to keep me safe.
“Thank you.” The words are whispered against his chest. “For coming. For saving me. For—for being what you are.”
His entire body goes rigid. “Elena—”
“I was wrong.” The confession hurts but needs saying.
“Three days ago, when I kicked you out, when I blamed you for everything, I was wrong. Being with you is dangerous. But not being with you is worse. Because those men today? They would have taken me anyway. Would have used me as a message anyway. At least this way, you were there to save me.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re in shock—”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.” Pulling back to meet his eyes. “I love you, Alessandro De Luca. I love the man who makes me breakfast and the monster who kills to protect me. I love all of it, all of you, even the parts that terrify me.”
“You shouldn’t.” But his hands are gentle on my face, his eyes searching mine. “You should run far away and never look back.”
“Probably. But I’m stubborn, remember? When I want something, I don’t give up easily.” A shaky smile manages to surface. “And I want you. Even knowing what that costs. Even knowing the danger. I choose you.”
“Elena—” His voice breaks.
“I choose you,” the words are repeated, firmer this time. “Stop trying to push me away for my own good. Stop making decisions for me. Let me love you, and love me back, and we’ll figure out the rest together.”
For a long moment, he just stares. Then he’s kissing me, desperately, tenderly and tasting of relief, promise and something that might be hope.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my lips. “Cristo, I love you so much it terrifies me.”
“Good. Be terrified with me.”
His laugh is wet, broken. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Or your salvation. I haven’t decided yet.”
The car takes us somewhere safe, a house in the suburbs, unremarkable and anonymous. Inside, Alessandro tends to the bruises on my wrists from the zip ties, the scrapes from being thrown in the van, the invisible wounds from almost being—
I can’t think about it. I won’t focus on what almost happened. The only thing that matter is the fact that Alessandro found me, saved me, showed me exactly what loving him truly means.
“Stay with me tonight,” the request comes quietly. “Let me hold you and know you’re safe.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the promise is spoken against his chest as his arms wrap around me. “I’m done running. Done pretending I can live without you. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Thank God.” His hold tightens. “Because letting you walk away three days ago was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Watching you hate me, knowing I deserved it—”
“You didn’t deserve it. I was scared and angry and I lashed out.” I pull back to meet his eyes. “But Alessandro? No more secrets. No more trying to protect me by hiding things. If we’re doing this, really doing this, I need all of it. The truth, the danger, everything.”
“Everything,” he agrees. “No more secrets. No more hiding.”
“Good.” I press a kiss to his jaw. “Now hold me. And tomorrow, we’ll figure out how to handle Greco and the feds and everyone else who wants to use me against you.”
“Tomorrow,” he agrees, gathering me close. “Tonight, you’re just mine and I’m just yours and nothing else matters.”
And surrounded by his warmth, his strength, his love, for the first time in three days, safety finally feels real.
Because monsters might be terrifying.
But sometimes, loving a monster is the only thing that keeps you safe. And being loved by one is what finally makes them human again.