Chapter 20 Elio #2
He started crying. Not from pain or fear. From relief. From triumph. From proving to himself that trauma hadn't destroyed his ability to be intimate.
I held him while he cried. Let him process. Let him feel everything.
"Thank you," he said when he could speak. "For letting me lead. For trusting me to know what I needed. For being patient while I figured it out."
"Always. I'll always follow your lead in this. Always trust you to know yourself. Always be patient while you heal."
We cleaned up slowly. Got ready for bed together. Brushed teeth. Changed into sleep clothes. Normal routines that felt precious after everything we'd been through.
In bed, Julian curled against my chest. "I love you. Thank you for tonight. For letting me reclaim this."
"I love you too. I'm so proud of you. Of how hard you're working to heal. Of how strong you are."
He fell asleep quickly. Exhausted from therapy and emotional processing and the intimacy we'd shared.
I lay awake for a while. Watching him sleep. Grateful for his resilience. Grateful he was healing. Grateful he'd chosen to stay with me despite everything.
Eventually I fell asleep too. Holding him close. Both of us finally at peace.
***
At 2 AM, Julian woke with a sharp gasp.
I was already awake. I slept lightly now. Always aware. Always ready.
"You're safe," I said immediately. The routine we'd developed. "You're with me. In our bed. In our apartment. You're safe."
"Elio—" His voice was panicked. Disoriented. Still caught between nightmare and reality.
"I'm here. I've got you. Focus on my voice. On my hands." I rubbed his back gently. Grounding. "You're safe. He's dead. He can't hurt you. You're safe."
Julian's breathing was ragged. Fast. He was shaking.
"Tell me five things you can see," I said. Another grounding technique Pavel had taught us.
"The window. The dresser. The lamp. Your face. The clock."
"Good. Four things you can touch."
"The sheets. Your skin. The pillow. My hand."
"Three things you can hear."
"Your voice. Traffic outside. The heater."
His breathing was slowing. Coming back to reality. Coming back to the present instead of trapped in the past.
"Two things you can smell."
"Your soap. Clean laundry."
"One thing you can taste."
"Toothpaste."
"Good. You're here. You're present. You're safe." I kept rubbing his back. Steady. Grounding. "Do you remember where you are?"
"Our apartment. Our bed. With you. I'm safe." He took a shuddering breath. "Sorry. I thought they were getting better."
"They are. This one was shorter than usual. You came back faster. That's progress."
"Doesn't feel like progress."
"It is. Trust me. A month ago these lasted twenty minutes. Tonight was maybe five. That's improvement."
I got up and got him water. Got him settled back in bed.
"Can you sleep?" I asked.
"I think so. Will you hold me?"
"Always."
He fell back asleep within minutes. Exhausted. Still processing trauma but getting better.
I couldn't sleep after. Too wired. Too aware. Too caught up in my own processing.
Guilt still gnawed at me. I should have protected him better. Should have seen Dante coming. Should have prevented the kidnapping entirely.
Intellectually, I knew that was impossible. We'd taken reasonable precautions. Had security. Had protocols. Dante's execution had been professional and planned. No one could have predicted it.
But emotionally, I still carried the weight. Still felt responsible. Still wished I could have prevented Julian's trauma entirely.
At 3 AM, still awake, I got up carefully. Grabbed my laptop from the living room. Might as well check security feeds if I wasn't sleeping.
Old habit. Comforting routine. Reviewing Inferno's cameras. Making sure everything was secure.
I scrolled through feeds. Main floor was mostly empty. A few late-night patrons. Security team visible at their posts. Everything normal.
Back offices empty. Storage areas clear. VIP sections locked and dark.
I was about to close the laptop when movement caught my eye.
Private office just off the main club area. The one we used for conversations that needed privacy.
Someone was inside.
I zoomed in. Enhanced the image.
Luca.
And Valentino Russo.
I sat up straighter. What the hell?
Luca was supposed to have handled Valentino. Made sure the raid footage didn't get published. Convinced the journalist to destroy the evidence and forget about us.
That had been resolved. Finished. Done.
So why was Luca meeting with Valentino at 3 AM in a private office?
I couldn't hear the conversation. Just watch. Read body language. Try to interpret.
They sat close. Too close for a simple business discussion. Luca leaned in. Said something. Valentino's expression was intense. Focused. Not hostile but—charged.
This wasn't a threatening conversation. Wasn't aggressive. But it was intimate. Personal. Something more than just handling a problem.
What was Luca doing?
I watched for ten more minutes. Trying to figure it out. Trying to understand.
The conversation looked intense. Important. Both of them completely focused on each other. Neither backing down.
Then Luca reached across the space between them. Touched Valentino's hand. Brief. But deliberate.
And Valentino didn't pull away.
Understanding clicked into place. Or at least suspicion.
This wasn't about handling a problem. This was personal. This was—something else. Something I didn't have context for yet.
I should probably intervene. Should probably find out what Luca was doing meeting secretly with a journalist who had damaging evidence on us.
But looking at them—looking at the intensity, the intimacy, the careful way they were navigating each other—I decided it could wait.
Whatever this was, it wasn't an immediate threat. Wasn't something that required urgent action. Whatever Luca was doing with Valentino Russo, it could be addressed tomorrow. In daylight. When I wasn't exhausted and processing Julian's nightmare.
Right now, Julian needed me more than I needed to solve whatever problem Luca was creating.
I closed the laptop. Made a mental note to talk to Luca tomorrow. Find out what was happening. Whether Valentino was a threat or—something else.
But tonight, I had more important priorities.
I went back to the bedroom. Climbed carefully back into bed.
Julian was still asleep. Peaceful now. The nightmare had passed. He was curled on his side. Breathing steady. Face calm.
I pulled him close. He instinctively curled into me. Seeking warmth and safety even in sleep.
I held him and thought about the past month. About everything we'd been through. Everything we'd survived.
The kidnapping had been horrific. Traumatic. Life-altering. But we'd survived it. Julian was healing. Getting stronger. Reclaiming his life piece by piece.
Recovery wasn't linear. There were setbacks. Nightmares. Bad days. Moments of fear and doubt.
But there was also progress. Good days. Moments of triumph like tonight's intimacy. Steps forward in healing.
Julian's strength amazed me daily. His refusal to let trauma define him. His commitment to healing instead of just surviving. His determination to build a life instead of just exist.
Our love had deepened through crisis. Been tested by trauma. Emerged stronger.
We'd been forged in fire. Tested in ways most couples never face. And we'd come through it together. Partners. Equals. Committed.
The future held more challenges. More therapy. More healing. More nightmares to work through. Luca's situation with Valentino. The FBI investigation still lurking. Life in this world with its constant dangers and complications.
But we'd face it together. As partners. Supporting each other. Trusting each other. Loving each other through whatever came.
I looked at Julian sleeping peacefully in my arms. Thought about how far he'd come. How far we'd come together.
How far we had ahead of us.
END BOOK 3: THE SIN EATER