Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chloe
Ever since Enzo became employee number two at the flower shop, things between us had thawed. Considerably.
Everyone probably figured out he was here for me. But I never admitted it, and no one asked. We all just... knew.
Enzo threw himself into the work. Orders had exploded lately—people coming from miles away just to buy flowers. I half-suspected some post had gone viral online, turning us into some kind of Instagram hotspot.
But when I searched, I found nothing.
The surge in orders turned Enzo from customer to unofficial employee. Every day I watched this infamous former New York mob boss haul flowers around until he was filthy and disheveled. It was surreal.
Enzo had always been proud. Distant. Now we were squeezed into this tiny shop together, wrapping bouquets, teasing Emily in the back room. It felt like whiplash.
Like everything in New York had been a dream. Like we were just an ordinary couple in a small town. Happy, even.
But I never gave him any real signals. I wasn't about to repeat past mistakes.
Today, Enzo didn't show up at the shop. I wasn't sure what game he was playing this time.
Then he knocked on my door that evening, and the second he walked in, I knew something was different.
His shoulders were tighter than usual, lips pressed into a hard line.
His eyes swept all four corners of the shop before landing on my face.
He braced both hands on the counter and spoke low.
"Chloe, I need you and Emily to leave town for a while. I've arranged a place in another city."
I set down the rose I'd been trimming. "Why?"
"Change of scenery. Good for the baby."
I stared at him. Change of scenery. Good for the baby. The excuse was so flimsy I didn't bother calling him on it. Emily wasn't even a month old. She didn't know what town she was in. What difference would a change of scenery make?
"No." I picked up the shears again and kept trimming. "I finally settled here. I'm not just picking up and leaving."
Enzo went quiet. Then he tried a different angle.
"Could you at least stay inside for the next few days? I'll handle things at the shop."
The shears snipped through a stem. My hand froze.
Stay inside for the next few days.
Those words were a key, unlocking a door in my memory I'd tried so hard to bolt shut.
Those days had been torture. My world compressed to the size of a house.
Not even the yard. Sunlight only reached my face through glass.
I'd grown quieter and quieter, like a decorative object on a shelf, only taken down and handled when Enzo came home.
"Stay inside?" I set down the shears and looked up at him, my voice cold. "Are you serious?"
"Chloe, this time is different."
"It's always different." My jaw tightened. "I'm not accepting any version of 'stay inside' ever again, Enzo. If you want to lock me up, forget it."
Pain flashed across Enzo's face. His right hand drummed absently on the counter, over and over, like he was fighting some internal battle.
I put down the shears, came out from behind the counter, and stood directly in front of him.
"Just say it." My voice was steady but firm. "No more hiding things from me like before."
Under my gaze, Enzo's evasiveness and hesitation slowly fell away. His shoulders loosened slightly, but his expression grew heavier.
He sighed.
"There's a hit squad headed for this town. Target's me, you, and Emily."
The air froze. The sweet scent of roses and lilies suddenly turned sharp in my nose.
"It's an elite squad my father Carmine trained years ago. Julian hired them. These aren't regular thugs—they're professionals. Four to six of them. They've been casing the town for at least three days."
My fingers went cold.
"When did you find out?"
"Three days ago."
"Three days ago?" My voice climbed. "You found out three days ago that someone wants to kill us, and you're only telling me now?"
"I needed time to confirm the situation. Moving without knowing their numbers and positions would've been more dangerous." Enzo reached out like he wanted to touch my face, soothe me. I turned my head away.
"Why didn't you tell me right away?" My fingers clenched Emily's blanket. "Enzo, you made another decision for me. You figured I didn't need to know. You figured you could handle everything yourself. You figured telling me would just make me panic. Right?"
Enzo closed his eyes briefly. "Yes."
At least he didn't lie this time. Progress. Progress that made me want to curse.
"But I'm telling you now," he said, opening his eyes to look at me with that tenderness I'd seen so often these past few days. "Because you told me not to hide things from you anymore. I remembered."
That doused half my anger. Okay. At least he was trying to change.
I looked down at Emily. She was sleeping peacefully, tiny fist wrapped around my finger, mouth slightly open.
She was so small. She knew nothing. She only knew her mother's embrace was warm, that someone fed her when she was hungry, that someone hummed songs when she was sleepy. Her world was clean. Untouched.
I couldn't let her be threatened. No matter what it cost me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I decided.
Not for Enzo. For Emily. She was my angel, my whole world. She couldn't die in this town because of her parents' past.
"When do we leave?"
Something flickered in Enzo's eyes. I couldn't tell if it was relief or pain.
"Now. I'll get the car."
I called Grandma Ruth to say goodbye. I didn't tell her the real reason—just said I had personal matters to handle and would be gone for a while. She agreed quickly, only reminding me to stay safe and come back soon.
My nose stung. I'd only lived in this town for less than three months, but this seventy-something-year-old woman had given me something I'd never gotten in twenty-plus years in New York—love from an elder.
I opened my mouth to say thank you, but my voice caught. Grandma Ruth's soothing words came slow and steady, unhurried like everything she did.
If I got the chance to come back, I would.
Late that night, Enzo's gray Toyota pulled up outside my gate.
I carried Emily, a bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with formula, diapers, and clothes.
As I walked out, I glanced back at the little house I'd lived in for barely two months.
The glass bottle on the porch railing still held that daisy Enzo had bought at the shop but never taken home.
It had dried, petals faded to pale beige.
Enzo took my bag and put it in the trunk, then opened the back door for me.
His movements were quick but gentle, his hand hovering over my head as I bent to get in, making sure I didn't hit the roof.
The old Enzo wouldn't have done that. His hands used to grab, press, control.
But now his hands were careful, like I'd suddenly become fragile porcelain.
I settled Emily into the car seat in back and buckled her in.
The engine started. The town's silhouette receded in the window, streetlights passing one by one before disappearing.
The car was quiet except for Emily's soft breathing and the faint glow of the dashboard.
Enzo drove while constantly checking the rearview mirror.
Every few seconds, his eyes reflected the blue dashboard light in the darkness.
I watched the mirror too. The road behind us was black. No headlights. Safe for now.
We left the town center and turned onto the deserted road leading to the highway.
Trees pressed in on both sides, only sparse moonlight leaking through gaps in the clouds.
I'd driven this road many times during the day and found it peaceful.
But wrapped in darkness now, every tree looked like a lurking figure.
My hand kept patting Emily's back. She slept soundly in her seat. I kept telling myself everything would be fine, that Enzo wouldn't let anything happen to us. But my heartbeat wouldn't slow, temples pounding.
Enzo suddenly spoke. "Chloe, whatever happens next, you grab Emily and get down immediately. Don't look up no matter what you hear or see."
"What do you mean?" My voice tightened.
"Promise me."
"Okay."
He said nothing more. Because in the next second, he straightened, hands clenching the wheel.
An abandoned building appeared ahead. Three stories, windows all blown out, walls covered in vines. Enzo stared at it, lips compressed, his whole body so tense I could see the vein jumping in his neck.
"Get down!"
The instant he wrenched the wheel, a sharp crack exploded in my ear. A hole appeared in the windshield, cracks spreading outward. A bullet. That was the sound of a bullet punching through glass.
My body moved faster than my brain. I threw myself over the car seat, covering Emily completely.
She woke crying, her piercing wail filling the car.
The second bullet hit the roof, metal puncturing with a sound like a hammer hitting a tin can.
The third shattered the right mirror, spraying glass everywhere.
Enzo floored it. The car roared forward. Then the left rear tire blew—a dull explosion, the car lurching hard left, the wheel shaking violently in Enzo's hands.
When the front end hit the low wall, the seatbelt cut painfully into my chest. My first instinct was to check Emily. She was still crying, but unhurt. I pulled her from the car seat and held her tight, curling in the gap behind the front seat.
My hands shook. But through the fear came a strange clarity. My daughter was in my arms, her heartbeat against my chest, small and rapid.
The gunfire stopped. The wall blocked shots from the abandoned building. But I knew this cover wouldn't last.
Enzo's voice came from up front, urgent but strangely steady.
"Chloe. Listen. Stay in the car. Don't come out no matter what."
He pulled a gun from his waist and charged forward.