AUDRA
One leg is finally free. The zip tie snapped after endless grinding against the sharp metal edge of the chair.
My ankle is shredded, blood is running down my foot to pool on the concrete, but I barely feel the pain.
All I feel is panic. My heart is hammering so hard I'm convinced it's going to explode.
Each beat is a sledgehammer against my ribs.
I can't breathe right. The band across my chest is too tight, the air too thin, the room keeps spinning at the edges.
And Gabe keeps coming closer. Step by slow, deliberate step.
What the hell is his plan? He's unarmed.
He dropped his guns. He's walking straight into the lion's den with nothing but his bare hands and that terrifying calm in his eyes.
I plead with him silently, eyes wide, tears streaming, shaking my head as hard as I can. Don't. Please don't. Turn around. Go. But I already know there's no turning back.
He came. He came for me. Even though he knew they would kill him. What kind of man does that? Gabe, apparently.
The man who stalked me for months but never forced me.
The man who sent gifts and arranged a ball for me because he couldn't stay away.
The man who made love to me this morning like I was the center of his universe and then told me he loved me like it was the simplest, most undeniable truth in his world.
He takes another step.
His mouth is moving, he's saying something low and steady, eyes locked on mine, but I can't hear the words over the roaring in my ears.
My heart hurts so much it feels like it's being crushed in a vise.
I can't lose him. I can't. Not him. Not the man who woke me up after years of sleepwalking through my own life.
Not the man who makes me feel alive and wanted and seen in a way Pete never could.
I love him.
The words slam into me with brutal force, no more hiding, no more guilt, no more it's too soon. I'm madly, desperately, impossibly in love with Gabriel D'Amato. The possessive mafia boss. The dangerous, obsessive, beautiful monster who would burn the world down for me.
And he's about to die because of it.
Razor shifts beside me. "How fucking sweet."
I catch the change in his expression, the smirk, the sharpening, and narrowing of his eyes. I've seen it before. His finger tightens on the trigger.
No! But instead of pulling the trigger, his hand shifts. The gun, seconds ago aimed at Gabe, turns on me. "Let's see her bleed some more first."
Everything happens so fast. There is no time to think, only to react.
Gabe dives towards Razor. I can see it happening in my mind's eye even before it does.
Impotently, I watch as Gabe lunges at Razor, incredibly fast. But not fast enough.
The moment he sets in motion, Razor's gun hand changes direction toward him.
Already seeing how this is going to end, my body jerks against the restraints, and my foot lashes out; my toes slam into Razor's leg.
I feel the impact shoot up through me, bone against muscle, sharp and desperate, but he barely moves.
It's nothing. It's not enough. A shot rings out anyway, and the sound is deafening.
Gabe's head snaps back. Blood sprays. His powerful body staggers once…
then crumples to the concrete in a heavy, boneless heap.
Everything inside me shatters. "GABE!"
The scream tears out of me like my soul is being ripped in half. I thrash against the remaining ties, blood pouring from my wrists and the fresh gashes I just carved into my own leg. My vision whites out with pure agony.
Oh my God, he's dead. He's dead.
He came for me, and they killed him.
The pain is unbearable, a black, suffocating void that swallows every other feeling.
Losing Pete was nothing compared to this.
Pete's death broke something in me, but this…
this is annihilation. I can't breathe. I can't think.
I don't want to survive it either. I want to die too. Right here. Right now. With him.
My vision blurs with tears. I'm sobbing so hard, my whole body shakes. "Gabe… no… please… come back… I love you… I love you so much… don't leave me…"
Shots erupt on the outside of the room. Flea and two other men rush out the door.
Razor yells orders. The Collector's voice explodes from the speakers, cursing in a furious string of rage.
Shots erupt everywhere. Razor's own men—the ones the Collector already turned—spin on him.
Gunfire cracks. Bodies drop. Someone screams. Another man bursts through the door, his expression pure murder.
He moves like death itself, cold, efficient, merciless. He finishes off anyone still breathing with brutal precision, then sprints straight to me. I don't know who he is, but he grabs Gabe's discarded knife from the floor and starts cutting my ties.
"No!" I sob, grabbing at his arm the second one of my hands is free. "Check on Gabe first! Please—check on him!"
Our eyes meet for a split second, and recognition flashes through me.
Alessio. Something flickers in his gaze—understanding, maybe even respect—and he nods once.
I snatch the knife from him with my bloody, shaking hand and start sawing at the remaining ties myself.
I'm not careful. I cut myself multiple times—deep gashes across my forearms and thighs—but I don't feel them.
All I feel is the crushing terror that Gabe is gone.
The second I'm free, I collapse to the floor and crawl to him on my hands and knees, leaving bloody handprints on the concrete.
Alessio is already crouched beside Gabe, checking his head.
"What is it?" I choke out, voice raw and broken. "How is he?"
He looks up at me. And grins. "Lucky bastard. Just a graze."
He slaps Gabe's cheek lightly. "Get up, you lazy motherfucker."
I want to strangle him for manhandling Gabe, but then Gabe groans, low, pained, but alive, and he's all I can think about.
My whole world tilts back into color. The relief is so overwhelming that I almost black out and forget to yell at Alessio for treating Gabe so roughly.
A broken sob tears out of me as I throw myself over his chest, pressing my face into his neck, the tears pouring freely now. He's alive. He's alive.
I clutch him like he might disappear; my bloody hands stain his shirt, my body shaking with sobs I can't control.
"I thought you were dead," I whisper against his skin, unable to stop my voice from cracking. "I thought I lost you… I love you… I love you so much…"
Gabe's arm weakly comes up around me, pulling me closer even though he's only half-conscious.
"I've got you, baby," he rasps, voice rough and beautiful. "I'm not going anywhere."
Hearing his voice is the sweetest gift in a long time.
Everything feels soft around me. Like I'm floating with happiness.
The pain in my wrists and ankles feels far away, like it belongs to someone else.
My head is heavy, spinning gently, but I'm safe.
I know I'm safe because strong arms are wrapped around me, holding me against a warm, solid chest that smells like Gabe's cologne, and that unmistakable masculine scent that makes my heart stutter even when I'm barely conscious.
I snuggle deeper into him, a small, hazy smile tugging at my lips.
Gabe. He came. He walked straight into hell for me.
I tried to stop him. I screamed and begged.
I didn't want him to die trying to save me…
but he came anyway. Because that's who he is.
My impossible, possessive, beautiful man.
The one who makes me feel awake after years of sleepwalking.
The one whose love is fire instead of comfortable routine.
I don't care about timelines or what's normal anymore.
I love him. Deeply. Completely. The kind of love that rewrites every rule and burns down every wall that was ever set up by society or me.
A quiet, contented sigh escapes me as I press my face into the crook of his neck.
Voices drift around me—Alessio's cocky tone, Gabe's low rasp—but they sound like they're coming from the end of a long tunnel.
Far away. Safe. I smile again, even as the edges of my vision start to blur and the world tilts softly.
Because Gabe is here. He's holding me. He's alive.
For the first time since the purse party, since the police station, since everything started unraveling…
I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
My eyelids grow heavier. The voices fade further. Everything is warm and distant and peaceful.
"Gabe…" I whisper, so softly I'm not even sure he hears it.
Then my eyes roll back, and the darkness pulls me under completely, gently, wrapped in the safety of his arms.