Chapter 55
Vera’s POV
The laughter faded into something too soft. Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made you believe you could stop moving for a second.
But I didn’t want quiet.
I didn’t want rest.
I wanted blood.
I threw the blanket off, ignoring the sharp hiss that left my mouth. Every inch of my body protested the movement, but rage had a way of dulling pain—until it didn’t.
Valeria’s head shot up immediately. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t look at her. “Getting up.”
Claire shifted beside me, instantly alert. “Vera—”
“I need to see him,” I said, forcing my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hit the floor with a thud. My knees shook. “I need him to know he failed. I need him to look me in the eyes and realize I lived.”
Valeria stepped in front of me. “Sit. Down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” She glanced at Claire, but I could feel her pulse picking up. “This isn’t strength. It’s suicidal.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Claire was already at my side. Her arm looped around my waist. “Okay. Fine. Stand then.”
I tried.
God, I tried.
But my body had other plans.
My knees gave out before I could even straighten fully. The room tilted, my breath caught in my throat, and everything went white for a second. Claire held on tighter, bracing me against her, guiding me back down as gently as she could.
I felt the defeat settle in my bones like rot.
Claire didn’t let go.
Instead, she gave Valeria and Emilia a look over her shoulder—soft but commanding. Valeria looked like she wanted to argue, but after a long pause, she grabbed Emilia’s arm and left the room without a word. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
It was just us now.
I stared at the floor, fury coiling low in my stomach. Every second I was sitting here was another second he got to live without consequences.
“I’m not weak,” I said.
“I know you’re not,” Claire replied instantly.
“I can fight like this if I have to.”
“I know.”
My eyes finally met hers. “Then why—”
“Because I miss you.”
The words stopped me cold.
Claire exhaled shakily, sitting beside me again. Her hand slid over mine, her thumb brushing the edge of my knuckles.
“I miss you, Vera. Not the gun. Not the warpath. You. I spent months waiting to have this moment again with you.” She blinked fast, biting the inside of her cheek.
“So yeah, I know you can get up. I know you can kill him even while you’re bleeding out.
But I just got you back. And I need you to lay down with me for a while. ”
It was so gentle.
So disarming.
I knew exactly what she was doing—giving me a way out that didn’t make me feel like I lost.
And I hated how good she was at it.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t admit the pain or the rage or the way my hands were shaking because I wanted to move and couldn’t.
I just let her guide me back, slow and careful, until I was lying down again. My jaw clenched. My pride wounded. But her hand never left mine.
Claire curled up beside me, pressing her forehead to my shoulder.
And I let her.
Claire’s POV
She didn’t say a word as I eased her back down.
But I could feel it—the tension still in her shoulders, the anger in her breath, the shame she thought she was hiding. Vera wasn’t the type to admit defeat, not even to herself. Lying down felt like surrender to her. Weakness. Vulnerability.
But she let me do it anyway.
Which meant everything.
I stayed close, my hand still resting over hers, our fingers tangled, her skin hot with the remnants of a fever she wouldn’t acknowledge. She stared past me at the ceiling like she could burn a hole through it just by existing.
I curled in beside her, careful not to lean too much weight on her body, but close enough that she could feel it—me, real and here, breathing the same air.
“I meant what I said,” I whispered. “About missing you.”
Her jaw ticked, but she didn’t look at me.
So I kept going, soft and honest and selfish.
“I’ve never been so scared in my life, Vera. Not when I got shot. Not when Leo sent people after me. Not even when you put a gun to my head in that warehouse and I thought, well, this is how I go.”
That earned the tiniest flicker of a smile in her eyes.
But I meant it.
“Nothing scared me like watching you slip away day after day, knowing you were somewhere I couldn’t reach, and not knowing if I’d ever see your eyes again. Hear your voice. Feel your hand squeeze mine.”
Still no response.
So I leaned in closer, pressing my forehead to her temple.
“I didn’t pull you out of hell just to watch you drag yourself back in.”
That did something.
Her hand tightened on mine.
She didn’t say anything, didn’t turn her head, but I could feel it in her bones—something loosening. A tether giving just enough slack for her to breathe.
“You’re allowed to rest,” I murmured. “Just for a little while. Let me carry it.”
I felt her exhale, slow and reluctant. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Did you mean it?”
I turned my head, confused. “Mean what?”
She didn’t look at me. Just stared at the ceiling, like the question cost her more than she wanted to admit.
“That you love me.”
I stared at her for a second, stunned. Not because I hadn’t expected the question—but because she asked it like she didn’t believe she could be loved. Like she was bracing for me to take it back.
My chest tightened.
“I didn’t just say it, Vera,” I whispered. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”
Her eyes flicked toward me, uncertain.
“I think it started the moment we met. You pointed a gun at my head and I should’ve run the other way, but…” I laughed softly. “Something about you unhinged and furious just—did it for me.”
That got a quiet chuckle out of her.
She rolled her head slightly to the side to look at me, her lips curling just a little. “I remember that day.”
“Oh, I do too,” I said, smirking. “You threatened to kill me, I flirted with you, and somehow that was the beginning of the most deranged love story ever told.”
Her smile lingered.
For a moment, the world felt… still.
We just stared at each other, breathing in the same space, like the room had shrunk down to this bed, this moment, this warmth we’d clawed our way back to.
We were still tangled in that soft, impossible moment—her lips lingering near my temple, her breath warm and close.
And then it hit me.
The thing I’d buried.
The thing I hadn’t told her.
My throat tightened. I pulled back, just enough to look at her, but not enough to leave the comfort of her warmth.
“There’s something I need to say,” I whispered.
Her eyes searched mine instantly, like she already felt it building behind my ribs.
“I killed Leo.”
Vera stilled.
I felt her body tense just slightly—but not in fear. Not in judgment. Just quiet shock.
“I shot him,” I said, and my voice cracked. “I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. He was choking Valeria, and I just—God, I didn’t even blink. I aimed, and I pulled the trigger and I watched him die.”
The words poured out of me like they’d been waiting in my chest too long.
“I watched the blood. I dropped the gun after like it burned me. I couldn’t hear anything after that. I don’t even remember walking. I just—I remember his body. And her face. And how it didn’t feel heroic. It just felt... hollow.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, hot and angry.
“I wasn’t supposed to be like that,” I said, voice shaking. “I was the one who stayed clean. I judged you for how easy it was. And then I did it without flinching.”
Vera’s hand cupped my cheek.
“You saved her,” she whispered, like that made it okay.
“But I lost something,” I choked. “And I haven’t had a second to grieve it. Not Leo—God, no, not him. I don’t regret killing him. But I haven’t had a second to grieve me.”
I broke.
Not loud.
Not theatrical.
Just quietly shattered.
I curled into her, hiding my face in the curve of her neck, my body trembling as it all hit me—what I did, what I’d held in, what it meant.
Her arms came around me slowly, gently, like I was the one wounded now. Like she was holding something precious.
“You did what you had to,” she murmured. " You saved my sister."
I couldn’t speak.
I just nodded, tears soaking into her skin.
And then, after a beat—soft and steady, like she’d been waiting for the right moment to say it—
“I love you.”
My breath caught.
I froze for half a second—then pulled back just enough to see her face.
And smiled through the tears.
Not wide. Not full.
But real.
“Say it again,” I whispered, my voice raw.
She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, her thumb brushing a tear away.
“I love you.”
And in that moment, for the first time in weeks—
Everything in me stopped hurting.