Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bobby
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
My hands were clenched so tightly around my rifle that my knuckles ached, my heartbeat a vicious drum against my ribs.
I had never felt rage like this before—sharp, consuming, tearing through me like wildfire.
I was still crouched in my spot on the ridge, hidden by the trees, staring down at the cabin where Gabbi sat too goddamn close to Victor Costa.
And I’d just watched her kiss him.
My teeth ground together, my jaw so tight it hurt.
It had been an act—I knew that. I fucking knew that.
But it didn’t matter. It didn’t stop the fury boiling in my veins, didn’t stop the image from burning itself into my skull.
Her lips on his, the way she leaned in, the way he smirked afterward like he’d already decided she belonged to him.
I wanted to kill him.
Every part of me screamed to storm in, put a bullet between his eyes, and burn that whole fucking place to the ground. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not without getting her killed in the process.
So instead, I sat there in the dark, seething, waiting.
The hours crawled by. The fire in the camp burned low, the guards changed shifts, and my patience frayed with every ticking second. I had forced myself to retreat to my own hideout, pacing like a caged animal, my hands still curled into fists, my mind a loop of her, him, that kiss.
Then suddenly—she was there.
A soft rustle of leaves, a faint shift in the shadows. And then Gabbi stepped out of the darkness like a ghost, her breathing uneven, her body moving cautiously toward me.
I was on her in seconds.
"The fuck were you thinking?" I growled, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face me. My grip wasn’t gentle, but I didn’t care. I needed answers. I needed to know why she had done it, why she had gone through with it, why the hell she had risked everything without telling me.
Gabbi didn’t flinch. Her brown eyes met mine, tired but defiant. "I had no choice," she whispered.
Bullshit.
I exhaled harshly, my pulse still racing. "You think I give a damn about your excuses?" My voice was low, raw. "I watched you, Gabbi. I watched him put his hands on you, watched you—" My throat tightened, rage and something dangerously close to pain clawing at my insides.
Her jaw tensed, her breath shallow. "I did what I had to do."
"You kissed him," I snapped.
She swallowed. "You think I wanted to?"
The words hit me hard, knocking the breath from my lungs, but I didn’t let go of her arm.
My fingers flexed against her skin, my grip still firm, like if I let go, she’d disappear again.
"I don’t give a fuck what you wanted," I muttered. "I give a fuck that you’re standing here, breathing, and I don’t know if I should be relieved or pissed as hell. "
Something in her expression cracked then, just for a second. "Bobby?—"
The way she said my name—soft, broken, full of something unspoken—was my undoing.
I grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her hard.
It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, messy, full of frustration and fear and something I didn’t want to name.
Gabbi gasped against my mouth, her hands coming up to grip my jacket, fingers digging in.
I pressed her back against the nearest tree, my body caging hers in, my lips moving against hers with all the pent-up emotion I had been shoving down for six goddamn years.
She kissed me back just as fiercely.
Her hands yanked at my shirt, clutched at my shoulders, pulled me closer like she couldn’t get enough. My fingers tangled in her hair, tugging slightly, making her moan softly against my lips. The sound went straight through me, igniting something raw, something uncontrollable.
"Tell me," I rasped against her lips. "Tell me you’re done with this bullshit. Tell me you’re done putting yourself in danger."
She exhaled shakily, her forehead pressing against mine. "You know I can’t do that."
I clenched my jaw, hating that she was right. Hating that this mission wasn’t over, that we still had to get Liam, that we were still buried in the middle of a fucking war.
So I kissed her again.
Harder.
Deeper.
Because I could be angry later. Right now, I just needed to feel her.
The tension between us snapped, and suddenly, we weren’t holding back anymore.
Clothes were pushed aside, hands roamed, mouths collided. It was rough, fast, desperate, everything I needed and nothing I deserved. Gabbi was warm and soft beneath my hands, moaning my name like it was the only thing she knew.
I groaned, pressing my forehead against hers, my breath ragged. "You’re mine," I muttered against her skin, my lips brushing her jaw, her neck, anywhere I could reach. "You hear me, Mason? No more running. No more taking risks without me."
Her fingers tightened in my hair, her breath uneven. "I hear you."
I kissed her again, swallowing whatever else she was about to say, losing myself in the way she fit against me perfectly, like she had never left, like we had never been apart.
The world outside didn’t exist.
Not the mafia. Not the mission. Not Victor fucking Costa.
Just us.
Later, when we were tangled together beneath the low-hanging branches, our bodies still warm from the afterglow, I ran my fingers through her hair, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead.
She sighed softly, her hand resting against my chest, right over my heart.
"I’m getting you out of this," I murmured against her skin. "You and Liam. No matter what it takes."
She didn’t answer right away. But I felt it—the way she shifted closer, the way her fingers curled slightly against me, the way her breathing evened out like she finally felt safe.
"I know," she whispered.
I tightened my arm around her, listening to her heartbeat against my chest, memorizing the warmth of her against me.
I knew this moment wouldn’t last. Knew we’d be back in hell by morning.
But right now, in the stillness of the night, in the quiet between battles, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we could make it out of this alive.