Maddy
MADDY
W hen I wake up, the room is still dim, the soft light of early morning filtering in through the curtains. For a second, I forget where I am. I forget the terror of last night, the feeling of a knife against my skin, the panic that gripped me.
But then it all comes rushing back, and my heart skips a beat.
I turn my head, my breath catching as I see Mihai sitting in the chair beside my bed. He’s slumped awkwardly, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his curls wild and unruly. His leather jacket is on the floor next to the chair and he’s out cold, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
The hard lines that usually mark his features are softened, his jaw not as tight, his lips slightly parted in sleep. He looks… too handsome, honestly. Too perfect.
For a moment, I forget everything else—forget why he’s here, forget the chaos, forget the fear. I just watch him, my chest tightening with something I can’t quite explain.
The giggle slips out before I can stop it. It’s quiet, but the sound is enough to startle me, but I can’t help it.
The sight of Mihai, the terrifying, no-nonsense Romanian Mafia Prince, sleeping like a kid in a chair that’s way too small for him… it’s funny. And a little endearing.
I sit up slowly, not wanting to wake him just yet. But the more I look at him, the more I feel this pull—this need to be closer to him. He stayed with me all night. He didn’t have to, but he did. And I can’t ignore the fact that it makes me feel… safe.
Carefully, I slip out of bed, the cold floor making me wince as I tiptoe toward him. I crouch down in front of the chair, balancing on my haunches, and reach out hesitantly.
I place my hand gently on his knee, feeling the warmth of his skin through his jeans.
“Mihai,” I whisper softly, testing the waters, seeing if it’ll wake him.
He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. I can’t help but smile again.
“Mihai,” I say again, a little louder this time, my voice still soft but enough to break through his sleep.
This time, his eyes flutter open. He blinks once, twice, his gaze unfocused as he tries to make sense of where he is. It’s like he doesn’t recognize me at first—like the sight of me crouched in front of him, my hand on his knee, doesn’t compute.
Then, he looks directly at me, his eyes wide with surprise, his body tensing as he realizes he’s not alone. “What the?—”
“Good morning, Mihai,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, but clear. Stronger than I expected.
The look on his face is priceless. He freezes, his eyes locking on mine like he’s just seen a ghost. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, and for the first time since I’ve known him, Mihai Vasile looks completely speechless.
“You… you spoke,” he finally manages, his voice rough with disbelief. He blinks again, as if he’s not sure he heard me right, like he’s waiting for me to disappear or something.
I nod, feeling a little self-conscious now, but the look on his face is worth it. The pure, unfiltered shock is followed quickly by something softer, something warmer. He looks almost… proud. Like this tiny step means more to him than I can understand.
I stand up slowly, not quite sure what to do with myself, and he watches me the entire time, like he’s afraid if he looks away, the moment will disappear.
“How…” He shakes his head, running a hand through his messy curls. “How are you feeling?”
I blink at him, not sure how to answer that. How do I explain the mess of emotions swirling inside me? How do I tell him that for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel like I’m drowning? That hearing my own voice, saying his name, felt like taking a breath after being underwater for too long?
I grab my notepad from the nightstand, but instead of writing, I hesitate. My hand hovers over the page, and then I glance up at him.
“I… feel better,” I whisper, my voice shaky, unpracticed, but there. And I mean it. I feel lighter, like some of the weight has lifted off my chest.
Mihai looks at me like I’ve just said something groundbreaking, like hearing those three words from me is the most important thing in the world. His lips pull into a small smile, and I can see the relief in his eyes, the tension melting away from his body.
For a second, he just stares at me, his eyes wide, his jaw slack. Then he sits up straighter, scrubbing a hand over his face as if he’s trying to shake off whatever sleep-induced fog he’s in.
“Holy shit.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. It’s soft, but it’s real, and it feels so good. So much better than I ever thought it would. Mihai’s shock turns to something else—something softer, more like awe—and he leans forward, his hands resting on his knees as he looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
Mihai’s smile widens. “You scared the hell out of me.”
I swallow hard, feeling a lump forming in my throat. I want to say more, to tell him how grateful I am that he’s here, that he’s been here from the start, but the words are still stuck somewhere deep inside me.
Instead, I just nod, hoping he understands.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” I say quietly. “You looked like you were sleeping pretty deeply.”
Mihai snorts, shaking his head. “That chair is a goddamn torture device. I’m surprised I didn’t wake up paralyzed.”
I chuckle softly, glancing at his unruly curls. “You should’ve just gotten in the bed. It would’ve been more comfortable.”
His eyes flick to the bed, then back to me, and he raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t think that would’ve been appropriate.”
I laugh again, the sound surprising both of us. “Probably not.”
He stands up slowly, stretching his arms above his head and wincing slightly as his back cracks from sleeping in the chair. I stifle another giggle at the sight of him—wild curls, creased shirt, and sleep-heavy eyes.
“What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me. “You’re laughing at me?”
I shrug, trying to keep a straight face, but I can’t hide the smile. “You looked… peaceful sleeping.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Peaceful, huh? You mean I look like a fucking mess.”
I laugh softly, and he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips now too. Deciding to be a bit brave, I walk toward him, then reach up and mess up his curls more, and the look on his face makes me burst out laughing again.
“Why are you petting me like a dog, frumoasa ?” he says, gently swatting my hands away and for a moment, everything feels… normal.
Like the world hasn’t been falling apart around us, like there isn’t a storm of danger and betrayal waiting just outside these walls. It’s just Mihai and me, standing in the soft morning light, laughing about how ridiculous he looks after sleeping in a chair all night.
I bite my bottom lip, my heart pounding in my chest as I look up at Mihai. There’s something I need to say, something I’ve been holding onto, and the weight of it is suddenly crushing.
“I… I need to talk to your father,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
Mihai’s brows furrow, confusion flashing across his face. “My father? Why?” His voice is careful, but there’s an edge of concern there too.
I swallow hard, my mind racing with the memory that’s been clawing at the back of my mind for days. It’s not just about the attack—it’s about what happened before. What I saw. What I remember.
“I remember who Santiago was with,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I remember what they were talking about. Before the gunman walked in.”
Mihai’s eyes darken instantly, his body going rigid.
“What?” His voice is low, dangerous, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You remember everything?”
I nod, my throat tightening. The memories hit me in waves, flashes of the conversation Santiago was having before the shots rang out. It all comes rushing back, and I feel like I can’t breathe. The gunman, the chaos… and then nothing. I’d buried it all, locked it away, but now it’s clear. Crystal clear.
“I heard them,” I continue, my voice trembling. “They were talking about brokering a deal with a Giana… Giani? Giannini? I don’t remember, and then?—”
Mihai cuts me off, his hand gripping my shoulder, his touch firm but not harsh. “, stop.” His voice is soft but commanding. “I’ll take care of this. I’ll take it straight to my father. But listen to me—no one else can know you’re talking. Not yet. Not until we’re sure it’s safe and especially not since you’ve just mentioned that fucking name.”
I blink up at him, my heart racing. “But I?—”
“No,” he interrupts, his tone sharper now. “We can’t risk it. If there’s a mole, they can’t know you remember anything. They think you’re still… still broken. And right now, that’s our only advantage.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him that I can handle it, that I’m not as fragile as everyone thinks, but the look in his eyes stops me. There’s a raw intensity there, a fear I didn’t expect to see. He’s not just protecting me—he’s protecting something bigger, something I don’t fully understand yet.
“I’ll take care of it,” he repeats, his voice softer now, almost reassuring. “But no one else can know. Not even the girls, and not until I say so.”
I nod slowly, the weight of his words settling over me. He’s right. As much as I hate it, he’s right. If they know I’m talking, that I remember… I can’t even imagine what they’ll do to stop me.
Mihai’s grip on my shoulder loosens slightly, and he sits back in the chair, running a hand through his wild curls. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to me.
I sit down on my bed, leaning against the headboard, my knees drawn up to my chest as the reality of what I just said sinks in. I remember. And it’s not just fragments—it’s clear, like a puzzle piece that finally snapped into place. I close my eyes, the memory playing over and over in my mind.
Santiago’s voice, low and serious. The man across from him, tense but calm, his words sharp as they talked about something big. Something that could change everything. And then the gunman. The shots. The blood.
Mihai picks up his jacket from the floor, shaking it out before throwing it over his shoulder. He glances at me, and his eyes soften again, the playful glint fading into something more serious, more protective.
“I’m glad you’re talking,” he says. “But now more than ever, I need you not to say anything, okay? This is bigger than we thought, and?—”
He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he says. “Stay here. Lock the door behind me.”
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding. “I’ll trust you.”
Mihai’s lips twitch into a small, almost smile. “I’ll tell the girls to keep you company today, okay? I won’t be back until later, but I’ll text you.”
I nod. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, but he hears it. I know he does.
Now his smile is small, and it reaches his eyes. “Anytime, Little Rebel.”
My heart stutters at the nickname, but before I can ask, he’s already turning toward the door.
“I’ll check on you later,” he says over his shoulder, his tone casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper there.
I watch him go, feeling the warmth of his presence linger even after he’s left the room. And as the door clicks shut behind him, I realize that I’m still smiling.
And it feels good.