29. Mia
29
MIA
I t’s a ghost.
It’s a wrathful God.
And he’s pointing a gun at Carmen’s face.
“Leon!” I cry, my voice breaking.
Leon is there, shirtless and blood-stained, and his chest rises and falls with every labored breath. His eyes lock on me instantly, and for a moment, the entire world narrows down to just us.
He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s here. He came for me.
A sob wrecks itself through my body.
In my periphery, Carmen flinches at the sound.
Leon immediately turns back to the woman before him, his face set in ruthless determination.
“NO!” I half scream. I pant in desperate relief as his finger falls from the trigger. “Don’t hurt her.”
He doesn’t drop the gun, doesn’t look away from her. “Are you all right, Mia?”
“You’re alive. God, you’re alive.”
“Mia,” he barks, and Carmen takes a trembling step back.
“I’m okay. Leon, leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.”
I watch as Leon considers my words, eyes narrowing as he scans the threat before him. Then, with a small gesture with his gun, he says, “Untie her.”
Carmen swallows but does not reply. She’s clearly gathering her nerve to turn away from the gun to approach me slowly. I can see the terror in her eyes—she’s too young to be shaped by this world as of yet.
She should be out there using her degree to do something that excites her, living a real life, changing the world.
She shouldn’t be here.
“Hey,” I say to her softly. “It’s okay. He’s not going to shoot you.”
“Mia,” his voice is a warning.
“He’s not,” I snap at him. “He’s going to put the fucking gun down.”
Carmen trembles as she steps behind me. I can feel it in her hands as she unties my bindings.
Leon stands before us, and I stare at him defiantly until he drops his gun. At his shoulder, I see the unmistakable outline of Dante crowding the doorframe.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Carmen.
She says nothing, but the bindings drop, and I sigh in relief. I turn to her immediately, wanting to reach out and comfort her, but she’s already retreated into the corner of the room.
“Get out,” she whispers.
I back away, reaching out behind me for Leon. His hand immediately finds mine and pulls insistently. Tugging me out of the room.
Dante hesitates by the door to give Carmen a casual salute. “Princess.” Before slamming it closed behind us.
Leon’s arms are around me in a second, pulling me into his chest as hands cradle my face like I’m something sacred.
And oh, oh. He’s alive. His deep, chocolate eyes bore into mine with the intensity of a man deprived of the sight.
I feel another sob building in my chest, but he kisses it back. His lips are warm and alive on mine.
Alive and alive and alive.
“Mia,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His hands tremble as they slide over my back and my arms, as though he’s trying to convince himself I’m real.
“I thought—” I half choke on the words as he kisses up my cheeks and across my nose. “I thought you were dead.”
Next to us, Dante clears his throat. “He might be if we don’t get you both out of here right now.”
Leon’s jaw tightens, but he nods, gripping my hand tightly as he pulls away toward the exit. With Dante close on our heels, he pushes open the double doors into some kind of storage room.
Only to freeze when he sees who’s waiting on the other side.
“You bastard.”
Teo Vitale stands up from where he was crouched over the body of…oh…
Behind him, Rocco barks orders at the men who are filing in behind. “I need a B team to escort these guys out immediately!”
But Leon’s focus is on the other don. “I had to get her out.”
“I told you to stay in the hospital!” Teo snaps, striding toward us. “Look at you. You’re about to collapse.”
Leon stiffens, and for the first time I notice how awkwardly he’s holding himself and just how labored his breathing is. Out of the harsh lighting of the interrogation room, his skin is pale and gray.
“What the hell did you do to yourself?” I hiss at him, but he shrugs me off.
“Get out of here now. Rocco’s team will escort you out,” Teo orders before he turns to me. “It’s good to see you, Mia, but please, take this man home. I don’t want to see his face for another month.”
I give my husband a long look. “Let’s make it two. Come on, let’s go.”
His shoulders slump, and he nods, defeated.
I don’t comment as he leans into me as we make our escape. Dante and Rocco are on either side as we push out of the compound.
The hallways are a labyrinth of chaos. Gunfire, shouting, and the acrid smell of smoke fill the air. Leon keeps me close, shielding me with his body as we weave through the wreckage.
By the time we make it outside, I’m gasping for breath, and the man at my side is becoming a dead weight. It takes all three of us to get him into a car, and my arms barely feel strong enough to grip the wheel as I sit in the driver’s seat.
I manage to turn on the ignition, only to find myself hesitating. “Where am I going?”
Despite how pale and broken he looks, Leon cracks a small smile. “Home.”
When I finally pull up to the brownstone, I almost don’t recognize it.
The last time I saw it, the building was charred and broken. But now, it looks pristine—rebuilt and restored with painstaking attention to detail. The front steps gleam welcomingly under the streetlights, the door is inviting and warm.
A sob catches in my throat as I stare at it, tears burning my eyes. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it again.
“You fixed it,” I murmur as we come to a stop just outside.
His lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. “Wanted...you to have it back.”
I get out and rush to Leon’s side of the car, helping him out with one arm around his waist.
Inside, the air smells faintly of paint and wood polish, but the layout is the same. I help him up the stairs, practically dragging him into his room. He collapses onto the bed with a groan, completely drenched in sweat.
With a start, I realize he’s bleeding through his bandages again. I immediately turn to grab the medical supplies, but his hands snatch at my wrist.
“Don’t go.”
“I’ll be back in a moment,” I squeeze his arm gently. “I won’t leave, I promise.”
With that, I race down the stairs, feeling lightheaded when I arrive in the kitchen. Right. Food. Starving for three days.
I inhale a banana and down a glass of water while searching for the medical kit, finally spying it tucked behind the sink. I run back upstairs.
Leon has his eyes closed when I arrive, and my heart surges at the sight of his prone body.
“I’m back, Leon. I’m going to look after you, okay?” My voice catches, but thankfully, he stirs at the sound.
My hands shake as I peel back his bloodied bandages, revealing the splitting stitches across his chest. The sight of it nearly sends me spiraling again, but I force myself to focus.
“Just breathe, Leon. I’ve got you,” I say, dabbing at the wound with antiseptic. “But this is going to hurt.”
I rummage around for a suture needle, but there’s no anesthetic to be found. I contemplate raiding his supply of whiskey.
“Just do it,” he grits out, his eyes half-lidded. “Now.”
I thread the needle, trying to ignore how clammy his skin feels under my touch. The first pass through the torn flesh makes him jerk, his breath hissing through his teeth.
“Leon, look at me,” I say softly, leaning closer. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
His eyes flick to mine, hazy with pain, but he nods.
“You were threatening Teo over something stupid,” I say, pulling the thread through again. “I thought, ‘this man is far too attractive to have more than a couple of brain cells spare’.”
A faint smirk touches his lips despite the sweat beading on his brow. “You were...infuriating,” he murmurs.
“And you were smarter than you looked,” I reply, my voice trembling slightly as I work on the next stitch. “I’ve always…liked that about you. Even when I shouldn’t have.”
His hand weakly grasps mine, his fingers tightening as I push the needle through another torn edge.
“Keep talking,” he says, his voice a raw whisper.
I do, recounting little moments—our arguments, impassioned kisses, the first time we held the twins together.
His breathing steadies, though his grip on my hand remains firm like I’m his tether to something beyond the pain.
At last, I tie off the thread, sitting back with a shaky exhale.
“Done,” I whisper, brushing a hand through his damp hair.
Leon’s gaze is heavy, full of something I can’t quite name. “You’re...incredible.”
My throat tightens as his eyes flutter closed. His breathing immediately slows into unconsciousness.
I watch him for a moment, entirely overwhelmed by the last few days, before sinking into bed next to him. Everything else can wait a while.
“I love you too.”