Chapter 16 #2
Someone who told him to go away? Someone who's spent two years pretending he doesn't exist? Someone who's been treating him like an inconvenience instead of a person?
"Why?" I ask again.
The word sounds different this time. Less angry. More lost.
Dante doesn't answer right away.
He's watching me with that look again. The one I can't read. The one that makes me feel like he's seeing something I'm not showing him.
"Marina," he says quietly.
Just my name. Nothing else.
I wait.
Dante
"I need you to understand something," I say.
My side aches. The wound pulls with every breath. But the pain feels distant now. Secondary to what I'm about to say.
"I'm not good with words. Never have been."
Marina doesn't move. Doesn't turn around.
"But you asked me why. And you deserve an answer. A real one."
I take a breath. It hurts.
"Do you remember the first time we met?"
She turns slightly. Not all the way. Just enough that I can see her profile against the window.
"You came to my door," she says. "Looking for Sophia."
"Yes."
"You told me to come with you. I said no."
"You did."
"And then you threw me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried me to your car."
Despite everything, I almost smile. "You bit me."
"You deserved it."
"I did."
She turns fully now. Her arms are still crossed, but something in her posture has shifted. Less defensive. More curious.
"What about it?"
I look at her. Really look at her. The way I've been looking at her for two years through surveillance feeds and photographs and the occasional glimpse from across a street.
"When you opened that door," I say, "something happened."
Her brow furrows. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I've been doing this job for twenty years. I've knocked on hundreds of doors. Talked to hundreds of people. Threatened some. Killed others. It's all the same to me. Faces blur together. Names don't stick. I do what needs to be done and I move on."
I pause. The words are harder than I expected.
"But when you opened that door, Marina... I couldn't move on."
She stares at me.
"You were angry," I continue. "Scared. Defiant. You told me no. Nobody tells me no. Not like that. Not with that look in your eyes. Like you'd rather die than let me push you around."
"I was terrified," she says quietly.
"I know. I could see it. But you didn't let the fear win. You stood there in your doorway and you looked at me like I was just a man. Not a monster. Not a weapon. Just a man who was inconveniencing you."
I shake my head.
"Do you know how long it had been since someone looked at me like that? Like I was human?"
Marina doesn't answer.
"I threw you over my shoulder because I had a job to do. Because Sophia needed you. But the whole drive to the house, all I could think about was your face. The way you looked at me. The way you fought back even though you knew you couldn't win."
My voice drops.
"I fell in love with you in that moment."
The words hang in the air between us.
Marina's expression shifts. Disbelief. Confusion. Something else I can't name.
"That's insane," she says.
"Probably."
"You can't fall in love with someone in thirty seconds."
"I didn't think so either."
"We didn't even have a conversation. You kidnapped me."
"I know."
"And you're telling me that's when you—" She stops. Shakes her head. "No. That's not how love works."
I don't argue with her. I just wait.
"Love takes time," she continues. "It takes knowing someone. Understanding them. Sharing experiences. You can't just look at a stranger and decide you're in love with them. That's not love. That's... I don't know what that is. Obsession. Delusion. Something."
"Maybe," I say. "But it's the only truth I have."
She laughs. It's not a happy sound.
"The only truth you have is that you fell in love with a woman you threw over your shoulder like luggage?"
"Yes."
"And then you spent two years tracking her every move?"
"Yes."
"Do you hear how that sounds?"
"I do."
She paces away from the window. Runs her hands through her hair. Turns back to face me.
"Why didn't you say anything? In Chicago. When we were in the same house for weeks. Why didn't you tell me?"
"What was I supposed to say?" I ask. "You hated me. You had every right to hate me. I'd dragged you into a world you wanted nothing to do with. And then you got shot because of us."
My jaw tightens.
"You were lying in that hospital bed with a hole in your hand and I was supposed to what? Tell you I loved you? Ask you to stay?"
Marina's face changes.
"So you just... watched me instead."
"I stayed away," I say. "That's what you wanted. You told me to leave and I left. But I couldn't stop knowing. I couldn't stop making sure you were safe."
"That's not staying away, Dante. That's stalking."
"I know."
"You know everything about me. Where I live. Where I work. My phone number. Probably what I eat for breakfast."
She stares at me.
"You check your locks four times before bed. You take the stairs instead of the elevator."
Her face goes pale.
"You work with foster kids at a nonprofit downtown. You're good at it. They trust you. You stay late most nights because."
"Stop."
"You haven't been on a date in eighteen months. The last one was with a coworker named David."
"I said stop."
I stop.
Marina is shaking. Her right hand trembles at her side. The one that reminds her every day of what happened in Chicago.
"This is insane," she whispers. "You're insane."
"I am."
"You can't just—" She presses her palms to her eyes. "You can't just know everything about someone and call it love. That's not love."
"When Lorenzo said there was a job in Denver," I say slowly, "I volunteered."
Marina lowers her hands. Looks at me.
"I told myself it was just business. Just a debt collection. I'd come here, handle Webb, and leave. Maybe I'd see you from a distance. Maybe I'd drive past your building once. Just to make sure you were okay."
I swallow.
"I never planned to knock on your door. I never planned to drag you back into this. I was going to stay away. Like I promised."
"But you didn't."
"No." My voice roughens. "I got shot. And I was dying. And the only thing I could think about was your face."
I look at her.
"It's like you have a code," I say. "Something written into you that matches something written into me. And when I saw your face that first time, something unlocked. Something I didn't even know was locked."
Marina's eyes are wet.
"I've never felt this way about anyone," I continue. "Not once in thirty-six years. I didn't think I could. I thought that part of me died in that closet with my family. But then you opened your door and looked at me like I was just a man. And I've been yours ever since."