Chapter 38
Claire's POV
We were lying in bed, the air still thick with everything we’d just done.
My head rested on Vera’s shoulder, one of her arms draped over me, the other resting loosely on her stomach.
The room was dark, except for the faint glow from the hallway seeping under the door, painting her skin in soft gold.
I could feel her heartbeat against my cheek—calm now, but not asleep.
Neither of us had said much since collapsing into the sheets.
That was fine. I liked the silence with her. It never felt empty.
But something in her still felt far away.
So I lifted my head slightly, resting my chin on her chest and looking up at her.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
She didn’t answer right away.
Her fingers brushed along my spine slowly, and then she said, “You.”
It was soft. Honest. Almost too simple.
And I smiled, because yeah—coming from her, that was practically a poem.
“Okay,” I said, teasing. “That was cute. Who are you and what have you done with my emotionally stunted crime lord?”
Her mouth twitched—just slightly. But her eyes didn’t soften.
And that’s when I felt it.
There was more.
“It’s about Elias, isn't it?” I asked, voice quieter now.
She nodded.
“I was watching him. But I wanted to know more.”
Her fingers slowed against my skin, then stilled.
“I didn’t expect him to try and take you that night,” she added. “Now that he’s gone, I have no idea who Leo will send next.”
There it was.
The real weight sitting on her chest.
I sat up a little more, curling beside her so I could see her better.
“So,” I asked gently, “why now? Why did you make it public? You’ve been pretending I don’t matter for so long…”
Her jaw flexed.
“I thought I was keeping you safe by pretending I didn’t care,” she said. “If I acted like you were nothing, no one would use you against me. But then I saw how easily someone like Elias got close. You already have a target on your back—because of me.”
She looked at me, her voice quieter.
“So maybe letting the whole world know what you mean to me won’t make it worse. Maybe it’ll make them think twice.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“No.”
I laughed softly and rested my hand on her chest again, right over her heart.
“Well, that’s comforting.”
She raised an eyebrow at me.
I gave her a crooked smile. “I mean, if I’m already marked for death, at least I got the deluxe package. Comes with a violently possessive girlfriend and five-star threats. Not bad.”
“Girlfriend?” Vera asked, her voice low, edged with something I couldn’t quite place. Not mockery. Not softness either. Just that sharp, unreadable Vera-tone she used when she was trying not to feel something.
I froze for half a second, realizing what I said.
Then I blinked up at her, feigning innocence. “What? Too pedestrian for you? Should I call you my warlord instead?”
Her brow arched. “You just called me your girlfriend.”
“And you didn’t shoot me,” I said. “That feels like progress.”
She stared at me, her expression unreadable, but her fingers were still moving against my back—absent, unconscious, like she wasn’t ready to push me away.
“I don’t do titles,” she murmured.
I grinned. “That’s okay. I’ll just keep using them until you do.”
She exhaled slowly, like I was exhausting and amusing her in equal measure. “You’re not afraid of much, are you?”
I leaned in, kissed her collarbone, slow and warm. “I’m terrified,” I whispered against her skin. “I just like pretending I’m not.”
“Terrified of what?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but the way she said it—low, deliberate—sent a shiver down my spine.
God, she was so good at that. At getting under my skin with just a single, quiet word.
I didn’t answer right away.
I felt her fingers slide through my hair again, her hand curving around the back of my neck, holding me there like she could feel the truth coming and didn’t want to let it escape.
I took a breath. “Of this,” I said finally. “Of you.”
Her body tensed under mine, just for a second.
I looked up, met her eyes.
“I’ve never given a damn like this before,” I said. “And I hate how much it hurts that I don’t know what we are, or what happens next. I hate that loving you feels like loading a gun and handing it to someone else.”
Her hand tightened at the back of my neck.
“But I’m still here,” I whispered.
“Because I want all of it. Even if it ends badly.”
Vera looked at me for a long moment, something shifting in her eyes—something sharp and raw and barely contained.
And then, quietly, like it cost her something:
“I won’t pull the trigger, pastelito.”
My breath caught.
She pulled me down again, closer this time, her mouth brushing mine as she added, “But I’ll burn the world if anyone else tries.”
“It’s not bullets I’m scared of,” I said, my voice low now, the kind of quiet that only comes when your guard finally drops. “It’s losing you.”
Vera stilled under me.
For a second, I thought she wasn’t going to answer—was going to pretend she didn’t hear it, like she always did when things got too close.
But then she exhaled, a quiet scoff that held more emotion than she wanted to admit.
“You won’t lose me,” she muttered. “I’m your girlfriend, after all.”
I pulled back just enough to stare at her. “Oh wow. You already accepted it? That was quick. I expected at least three more arguments and a dramatic threat.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the corner of her mouth twitching.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked dryly.
I grinned. “Not really.”
She shook her head, but the way she looked at me right then—soft, like she hated how much she needed this—was enough to make my chest ache.
I leaned in, kissed her slowly, and whispered against her lips, “Good.”
The sunlight filtering through the blinds was soft and pale, casting slow-moving shadows across the floor. Vera was still asleep beside me, arm heavy over my waist, her breath even. For a while, I just lay there, watching her. Memorizing the softness in her face that no one else ever got to see.
But the moment couldn’t last forever.
By the time I slipped out of bed, got dressed, and stepped out into the hall, the safehouse had come back to life—quiet voices, shifting footsteps, the usual edge that never really faded.
I didn’t expect to run into Antonio near the kitchen.
He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes calm in that unreadable way of his. He straightened when he saw me.
“Claire,” he said with a small nod. “Got a minute?”
I paused, unsure, then nodded. “Yeah. What’s up?”
He glanced around, made sure no one was listening, then stepped a little closer. His voice was low. Careful.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said. “For yesterday. For what I said after the warehouse.”
I blinked. “You mean the whole ‘this will end badly’ speech?”
He nodded, jaw tight. “It wasn’t my place.”
I raised an eyebrow. “No, it wasn’t.”
He took the hit without flinching. “I wasn’t trying to come between you and Vera. I just… I’ve seen what happens when someone becomes a weakness in this life. I thought maybe you didn’t understand the risk.”
“I do,” I said simply.
His gaze met mine, a flicker of something behind it I couldn’t quite place. Regret? Jealousy? Or something heavier?
“I was wrong,” he said. “You’re not a weakness to her.”
I stared at him for a second, caught off guard by how sincere he sounded.
“She’s more dangerous with you beside her,” he added. “And that scares people.”
A beat passed.
Then I smirked. “Good. Let them be scared.”
His mouth twitched like he almost smiled. Almost.
“You still shouldn’t let your guard down,” he said.
I tilted my head. “Funny, that’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
He paused, then looked me in the eye. “That’s because some of us know what’s coming.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away—leaving me standing there, more unsettled than I cared to admit.
Vera's POV
I woke up to cold sheets.
My hand moved instinctively across the bed, searching, expecting the warm weight of her body still tangled in mine—but there was nothing. Just the fading imprint of her.
I sat up fast.
The room was quiet, the soft light of morning creeping through the half-drawn blinds. My heart was already beating harder than it should’ve been. I grabbed my shirt off the floor, pulled it over my head, and moved fast down the hall.
She wouldn’t have left. She wouldn’t be that reckless—not after everything.
But when I turned the corner into the main room, I saw her.
Standing by the counter.
Talking to Antonio.
Too close.
He stood with that same collected posture he always had, voice low and calm, while she laughed at something he said, brushing her fingers back through her hair like she wasn’t aware of the storm building behind her.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice cutting through the room sharper than I intended.
Claire turned, eyebrows lifting like I’d startled her. “Good morning to you too.”
I didn’t smile.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Relax. I was just going to grab us coffee.”
“Grab us—what?”
“You know, the drink that keeps you from murdering people before noon,” she said, like it was obvious. “I thought I’d surprise you. Be domestic. Get you something that doesn’t taste like burnt regret.”
“Absolutely not.”
Her smile dropped. “Seriously?”
“You’re not going out. Not with Elias gone and Leo quiet. We don’t know what’s coming next.”
“I’d just be gone ten minutes—”
“No,” I said again, stepping closer. “You’re not going anywhere alone.”
Antonio nodded beside her. “Vera’s right. It’s not safe right now.”
Claire looked between us, clearly annoyed. “Okay, then come with me. We’ll make it a field trip. Bonding over lattes.”
“I have a meeting.”
“Postpone it,” she shot back. “The coffee here tastes like gasoline and despair.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, already regretting not keeping her in bed longer.
“I want one now,” she added, arms crossed. “And if this is my last week on earth or whatever doom you're preparing me for, I’d like to die with decent caffeine in my system.”
I exhaled, slowly.
Then looked at Antonio. “Take her. But don’t let her out of your sight. And take someone with you—someone you trust.”
Antonio nodded. “Got it.”
Claire grinned, smug.
I looked at her one last time. “Straight there, straight back. No detours, no stops, no getting clever.”
She winked. “I would never.”
Liar.
But I let her go anyway.
Claire’s POV
The drive was quiet at first, the kind of quiet that made my skin itch. Antonio sat behind the wheel, calm as ever, hands steady on the steering wheel. Juan was in the backseat, one of Vera’s guys—young, serious, barely said a word.
I tried not to let the silence get to me.
“So,” I finally said, trying to cut through it, “is this the part where I’m supposed to say thank you for chaperoning me to a caffeine fix?”
Antonio gave a small smile. “I don’t mind.”
“Not the most thrilling assignment though.”
He glanced at me. “It’s not about the thrill. It’s about keeping you safe.”
That word—safe—hit different coming from him.
But before I could pick at it, the car rolled to a slow stop.
I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Antonio looked down at the dash, then back at the road. “Something’s off with the tire. I felt it pull.”
Juan was already opening his door. Antonio followed, both of them rounding the side of the car to check.
I unbuckled and stepped out too, the gravel crunching beneath my boots as I moved to follow.
“Is it flat?” I asked, leaning toward the passenger side.
Then—
Bang.
The gunshot was so sharp, so sudden, it punched the breath out of my lungs.
I spun around just in time to see Juan drop to the ground in front of me, his body hitting the gravel hard, eyes wide and empty before I could even scream.
Blood pooled fast.
My heart stuttered violently.
“What—what the fuck—” My voice broke as I whipped my head around, searching for the shooter.
And then I saw him.
Antonio.
Standing there with the gun still raised.
Smoke curled from the barrel.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no—”
I took a shaky step toward him, eyes wide, heart hammering against my ribs. “What happened? Why—was that—was that a mistake? Is someone following us? Is he—are you—”
My words tangled, panic spiraling.
Antonio lowered the gun slowly, exhaled like he was carrying something unbearable, and holstered the weapon.
“I’m sorry, Claire.”
My whole body froze.
His voice wasn’t cold.
It was broken.
“I really care for you,” he said. “You mean a lot to me.”
“Then why—what are you doing?” I choked out, my hands shaking as I stared at Juan’s body.
“I have no choice.”
That’s when it hit me.
The truth landed like a punch straight to the chest.
He wasn’t trying to protect me.
He was taking me.
And Vera had trusted him. I had trusted him.