Chapter 43 Hawk
HAWK
I careen up to the house and race out of the truck.
Run to the door.
It’s unlocked, thank God.
Whoever is here never thought they’d be found.
Or they want to be found.
I don’t rightly care which. My boots slap the floorboards, heartbeat echoing in my ears.
The air smells strange. Like food. Different foods. Spices that my nose isn’t familiar with. And dust and mildew.
Then a muffled thud. Underneath me.
Then another.
A clatter, sharp and violent.
“Dani,” I breathe, already moving, looking for a door that could lead—
I find it quickly, wrench open the door.
The staircase groans under my weight as I take it two steps at a time.
The sound grows louder—grunting, scraping, a glass breaking.
Then a voice—a man’s—low, pained.
And a woman’s, ragged and desperate.
A voice I know.
I hit the bottom landing and the sight nearly stops my heart.
Daniela.
Alive.
She’s straddling a man twice her size—the chef—blood streaming from his left shoulder, his shirt already slick with it.
She’s reaching for something glinting on the floor.
“Get off him!” I shout, voice rough.
“Hawk!” she yells.
“I’ve got him, baby. Get off!”
She rolls to the side, gasping, just as he lurches upright.
He’s still strong—stronger than any bleeding man should be—and he swings at her. The blow misses, but the movement exposes his throat.
That’s all I need.
I tackle him, shoulder first, the way we learned to hit linemen in high school. He slams into the floor with a grunt that shakes dust loose from the beams above.
He catches my jaw with his elbow. Stars flash across my vision, and he’s then on top of me, pressing his weight down, clawing for my face.
But I’m bigger. And I’m meaner.
And I’m sure as hell going to fix this.
I twist, hook my leg behind his, and roll, driving him onto his back.
He snarls, teeth bared. “Too late,” he hisses. “You can’t save her. I’ve got things in place. Things that—”
I grab what Daniela was reaching for—a knife with an ornate jeweled handle—and jam the blade into his throat.
It’s a violent sucking sound.
A sound I welcome.
For a split second, he’s frozen, his eyes wide, shock flickering across his face.
Then he gurgles, gasping, blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth.
And he collapses back, eyes still open but empty.
I stay there, breathing hard, watching as the life drains out of him.
It’s over.
Finally over.
The room is silent except for Daniela’s uneven breathing.
She’s on her knees, staring at me, trembling.
“Belinda,” I say, voice breaking through the quiet. “She’s safe. Got home.”
Her eyes widen. “She’s… She’s home?”
I nod, pushing hair from my forehead. “Yeah. And Reyes isn’t going anywhere. I ran into him on the road.”
A shaky laugh slips from her, half relief, half disbelief.
The tension breaks out of me all at once. I reach for her, pulling her into my arms. She melts against me, shoulders heaving.
Something catches the light between us—a tiny flash of blue on the floor.
The sapphire from the knife handle. It must have broken loose when I grabbed it.
I bend down, pick it up between my thumb and forefinger. The gem glitters in the dim candlelight.
A thought occurs to me. It’s ridiculous. Improvised. Insane.
But it feels right.
I drop to one knee before I can talk myself out of it.
“Not a diamond,” I say, voice hoarse. “But it’s ours.”
Her eyes go wide, tears glinting.
“Marry me, Daniela,” I say. “Please. I love you so much. Marry me and make me the happiest man in the world.”
For a moment, she doesn’t breathe.
Then she nods, the tiniest movement, and whispers, “Yes.”
I slide the gem into her palm and close her fingers around it.
Her hand is warm. Mine is shaking.
I quickly blow out the last candle that’s still burning.
Franco is dead.
Belinda is safe.
Daniela is alive.
For the first time in months, maybe years, the world feels still.
In the middle of all the wreckage, covered in blood and dust and candle wax, Daniela smiles.
And I crush my mouth to hers.