Chapter 32 #2
He kneels before me, guilt and relief mixed in his eyes. As soon as his hands cup my face, I feel the weight of exhaustion overwhelm me. I lean forward without thought, sinking into his chest as if that alone might keep me from falling apart completely.
He wraps me in one arm and stretches the other towards Tomasso, and without a word, his second in command places a Glock in it.
He pulls my face into his chest as if to protect me from seeing what is about to happen, and as he drops a kiss on my hair, he fires a single shot, killing Vittorio instantly.
The muffled sounds of the cleanup fade around us, commands issued in low voices, the shuffle of bodies being moved, but they might as well be echoes from another world.
My cheek presses against his heart, the steady beat a pulse of life I haven’t felt in over a day, grounding me in a way nothing else could.
When he lets go, he cradles my face, his thumb brushing gently over the bruised skin beneath my eye. His gaze drags over me again, slower now, and what I see in his face shatters me.
It is not rage, though that simmers deep. It is fear, bone-deep fear, that he might have been too late. His breath is uneven, his voice low and breaking. “They did this to you,” he says simply.
I nod my head. “They will never touch you again, cara,” he says, and his voice trembles with the force of it, “I promise, they will never touch you again.”
As he bends to take another good look at me, I see behind him, a bloodied Vittorio has drawn a gun with shaky hands, his face twisted with rage.
He raises it toward Giovanni, and I quickly pull the gun from Giovanni’s waistband and fire a shot.
Vittorio jerks once, his eyes wide, then crumples to the ground.
The room becomes completely silent after Vittorio’s confirmed death. Renato remains still, his face pale, eyes wide and unblinking. Without a word, he sharply turns and runs.
Two men chase after him. Still, Giovanni doesn't let go of me.
Slowly, my hands rise, trembling, to cradle the sides of his face. His skin is warm beneath my palms, the slight roughness of stubble tickling my fingers. I feel the split on his lips with my fingers. He doesn't flinch from my touch. He'd willingly put himself up for harm because of me.
I search his eyes as I sign, Are you okay?
Giovanni’s breath catches. His brow furrows with worry as tears spill from my eyes, uncontrollable and unbidden. I don’t bother to hide them. They fall freely, tracing hot streaks down my cheeks, pooling against his shirt.
The dam breaks inside me, and with a shaky breath, I collapse fully into him, my body folding against his like a fragile thing finally allowed to rest.
He tightens his hold, his own eyes glistening as he brushes a hand gently over my damp hair, as if soothing the storm raging inside me. “Mia cara,” he murmurs softly, voice trembling with raw emotion, “I’m here. I’m here now.”
The tears come heavier then, harder to stem. Relief crashes over me in wave after relentless wave, overwhelming in its intensity. The terror, the loneliness, the torment, they all fall away in this moment held in his arms.
You came. The thought forms silently on my lips, my hands still pressing words into the fabric of his shirt.
“I will always come for you. Always, mia cara,” he promises, voice steady despite the emotion beneath.
For a fragile, fleeting moment, I let myself believe there is nothing beyond this—no dungeon, no pain, no threats from my father’s cruel words. Nothing but the warmth of his arms around me, the soft cadence of his voice holding me safe.
But deep inside, I know the shadows of these days will linger. They will hide in quiet moments, haunt the edges of dreams, and whisper behind my closed eyes when I least expect it.
For now, though, I push those thoughts away. I cling to him, to the fragile, unsteady certainty that for this moment, I am safe.
Gently, he shifts, lifting me with ease into his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says quietly.
I rest my head against his shoulder, my fingers still tracing the lines of his face as he carries me toward the door.
The harsh light beyond stings after the oppressive dark, but I do not look away.
Every step carries us further from the dungeon, the cold damp stone, the stench of despair, the place where I almost lost myself.
Outside, the air is sharp and clean. It fills my lungs like a breath of something forgotten but desperately needed. Giovanni does not set me down until we reach the car, his hands steady and careful as he helps me inside.
Tomasso stands at the door. “It’s clear. We’re heading back. Two of the men have gone after Renato,” he reports, “And we already disarmed every threat outside before we moved in.”
Giovanni nods once, his face grim. “Make sure they find him.”
Tomasso nods and glances at me. “I'm glad you're okay, Lili. Really glad.”
I smile my appreciation as Giovanni climbs beside me. The door closes, sealing us in the quiet sanctuary of the car. His fingers find mine, thumb brushing gently over the raw skin where the ropes bit deep.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice low and full of regret.
I shake my head softly. There will be time enough for apologies. For now, there is only the road ahead, the steady hum of the engine, and the man beside me who walked through darkness to bring me back.
I lean into him again, eyes closing as the tension in my chest begins to ease. The ache in my body remains, but it has shrunk, becoming distant and small.
I do not know when sleep finds me. But when it does, my dreams are not of shadows and running, but of standing in the light, his hand wrapped tightly around mine, a quiet promise held between us.