Chapter 24 - Mara
Mara
The marble floor feels cold under my bare feet as I hold onto the sink, my knuckles turning white against the Italian stone.
I barely recognize the woman in the mirror, her pale skin shows faint teeth marks, and dark circles shadow eyes that have memorized too many escape plans.
Her lips are swollen from desperate kisses and bitten raw from familiar worry.
But this time, the fear isn't about being caught. It's about losing him.
One chance. You eliminate Chase Callahan on Friday night, you prove your value to this family. You fail, you disappear permanently.
Salvatore's words echo in my mind like a ticking clock. Seventy-two hours until I walk into Chase's gathering, and every instinct tells me something will go wrong. This perfect reunion, this fragile safe space, might break just like everything else I've tried to protect.
Seventy-two hours until one of us might not come back.
"You're spiraling," Emilio says behind me, his voice low and knowing, making my heart race. He appears like a shadow, his silver eyes watching every tiny expression as if he's afraid it's the last time he'll see me like this, vulnerable, unguarded.
His hands rest on my shoulders, his thumbs finding the knots of tension with expert skill.
The touch sends a jolt down my spine, but beneath the familiar desire is something deeper, a desperate need to remember the weight of his hands, the warmth of his skin, the way he makes me feel valued instead of hunted.
"Terrified," I correct, leaning back into his solid warmth. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" His lips brush my ear, but there's no teasing. "Because from where I stand, it looks like you're planning to say goodbye."
The observation cuts too close to truth. I have been cataloguing moments, storing sensations, preparing for the possibility that Friday night ends with one of us in the ground and the other learning what it means to grieve someone you'd die to protect.
"The planning starts now," he murmurs against my throat, but his tone carries weight beyond tactical preparation. "Not just for Friday night. For what happens if..."
He doesn't finish the sentence, but I hear what he's not saying. If you don't come back. If I don't come back. If this perfect thing we've built gets destroyed by the violence that created it.
"Don't." The word comes out sharper than I meant. "Don't plan for failure."
"I'm not planning for failure." He holds me tighter, keeping me close to his chest. "I'm planning to keep you alive, no matter what happens to me."
The way he talks about his own death chills me. I turn in his arms, needing to see his face and find the truth in his eyes that have seen too much.
"Emilio—"
"Listen to me." He holds my face gently, his thumbs brushing my cheeks like he's memorizing them. "If something goes wrong Friday night, if things change, if I fall… there are things you need to know."
"Stop talking like that."
"Like what? Like a man who's spent his life making sure you're safe?" His smile is cold, but I sense fear underneath that tightens my throat. "That's exactly what I am, Mara. And part of keeping you safe is making sure you can survive without me."
He leads me to his main suite, but instead of going to his tech setup, he takes me to the sitting area. The morning light through the big windows feels too bright, too hopeful for what we're about to discuss.
"Sit." It's an order, but given with care. "Please."
I sink into the leather sofa, watching him walk over to the windows. His reflection blends with the garden view, dark hair and a lean build against the curated green, a man considering everything he might lose.
"There's a safe," he says, still facing the window. "Behind the Monet in my bedroom. It has a biometric lock set to your palm print. Inside, you'll find everything you need. Money, documents, and contacts who can help you disappear if the family sees you as a threat."
"You programmed my palm print?"
"While you were sleeping." He turns at last, and the vulnerability on his face takes my breath away. "After the family meeting."
I gasp. "You really think they'll kill me."
"Of course not," he says, but I can tell it's a lie. We both know that Rosettis protect Rosettis, and until I'm one of them, I'm a threat.
My chest tightens. He's not just worried about the mission failing, he's scared his own family will see me as more of a risk than a benefit, no matter what happens Friday night.
"There's more," he says, moving to his desk.
Instead of turning on the screens, he pulls out a single key from a drawer.
"The Lamborghini downstairs. It's modified with armor plating, bulletproof glass, and a GPS you can disable.
The trunk has go-bags with everything you'd need for six months on the run. "
I take the key with shaky hands, feeling the warmth from his grip. "How long have you been planning this?"
"Since the moment you decided to stay." He sits next to me, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with a hint of fear. "Since I realized that loving me might be the most dangerous thing you've ever done."
"The contact list in the safe," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "Matteo's at the top. If something happens to me, if the family turns against you, he'll help. We burned bridges, but he's my twin. I… I trust him."
My throat tightens with tears I can't shed. "You've thought of everything."
"I've tried to." He gently traces my knuckles with his thumb. "But there's one thing I can't plan for. One thought that keeps me up at night."
"What is it?"
"You." He holds my face in his hands, making me look into his eyes. "What happens to you if I die and you decide you can't live without me."
His honest confession hits me hard. He's not just scared of danger, he's terrified that losing him would make me choose death over survival.
"Promise me," he pleads, his voice desperate. "Promise me that if something happens to me, you'll use what I've given you. That you'll run, disappear, start a new life. That you won't let grief make you foolish."
"I can't—"
"You can." His grip tightens, fingers pressing into my skin. "You're stronger than anyone knows, even yourself. You survived without me before. You can do it again if you need to."
"I don't want to."
"Neither do I." His forehead touches mine, sharing breath in the close space between us. "But wanting doesn't change reality. And the reality is that loving me has put a target on your back that might never go away."
The truth settles between us, a heavy weight neither of us wants to bear. This isn't just about Friday night anymore, it's about accepting that our love exists in a world where devotion creates risk, where deep connections can be used by enemies.
"Show me the rest," I whisper, needing to see the full extent of his plans, how he's prepared for my survival without him.
He turns on his screens, not to show tactical data, but maps, escape routes through the city, safe houses in other countries, financial networks that could support me forever. Not plans for our mission, but a guide for my future if he's not there.
"Swiss accounts," he says, tracing digital paths while holding my hand. "Only you can access them with your biometrics. Enough money to live comfortably anywhere in the world for the rest of your life."
"And if you survive Friday but the family decides I'm too dangerous to keep around?"
"Then we disappear together." His smile is sharp and determined. "I've made backup plans for that too. New identities, resources they can't trace, places where even Rosetti influence can't reach."
The way he talks about leaving everything, family, empire, the life he's built, makes my ribs compress with emotions I can't quite handle.
"You'd give up everything," I say softly. "For me."
"I've already given up everything." His thumb gently traces my lower lip. "The moment I chose you over them, the moment I broke ties to keep you safe. There's nothing left to give up except time, and I'd rather spend whatever time we have together than be apart forever."
"And Friday night?" I ask. "Do you really think we can both leave there alive?"
His pause is brief, but I notice it. The moment of doubt quickly hidden, the fear he won't let himself fully feel.
"I think," he says cautiously, "that Chase has been planning this longer than we realize.
He's turned what should be a celebration into something more dangerous.
But I also think you're the smartest, deadliest woman I've ever known, and I can't believe the universe would let me find you again just to lose you. "
"That's not strategy, Emilio. That's hope."
"Sometimes hope is all we have," he says, pulling me closer until I'm almost in his lap. "Sometimes you have to believe that love is stronger than whatever is trying to destroy it."
When he kisses me, it feels like a promise, not the usual intense hunger, but something softer and more precious. It's the kiss of a man scared this might be goodbye, pretending it's just a planning session.
"I love you," I whisper against his lips, the words heavy with meaning. "If Friday night goes wrong, if this is all we have, I love you enough that it's been worth it. Worth everything."
"I love you too," he replies, and for the first time since I've known him, his voice cracks with emotion he can't hide. "Enough to turn against my own family if they try to hurt you. Enough to plan for every future except the one where I stop protecting you."
His words break my resolve. I bury my face against his neck, breathing in cedar, sandalwood, and something uniquely him, memorizing the scent in case Friday night takes away the chance to do it again.
"Promise me something," I mumble against his skin.
"Anything."
"If it comes down to choosing between the mission and keeping us both alive, choose us." I pull back to meet his eyes, needing him to see how serious I am. "I don't care much about family acceptance or proving my worth. I care about having a future with you."
His smile is knife-sharp but warmed by something that looks dangerously like hope. "Already ahead of you there, sweetheart. I've been choosing you over everything else for three years. I'm not about to stop now."