Chapter 36
Marco
I stand outside the bathroom door, forehead pressed against the wood, listening to Elena cry.
Every sob is a knife to my chest. Every broken breath makes me want to go back in there, gather her in my arms, and promise her everything will be okay.
But I can't. Because she needs space. And because I don't know if I can keep that promise.
The water runs for a long time. I hear splashing. More crying. Then silence.
I knock softly. "Elena? You okay?"
"Yeah." Her voice is small. Fragile. "Just getting out."
"Take your time. I laid out some clothes on the bed."
More silence. Then the sound of the bathroom door opening. She emerges in one of my t-shirts and sweatpants, both too big for her frame. Her hair is damp, her face scrubbed clean. The bruises stand out starkly against her pale skin.
She looks so young. So breakable.
"Come on," I say gently. "Let's get you to bed."
She follows me to the bedroom. Climbs under the covers without a word. I pull the blanket up to her chin.
"Try to sleep," I tell her. "You're safe here."
She nods but her eyes are wide. Scared.
"I'm going to be right in the living room. If you need anything—"
"Don't leave." The words come out panicked. "Please don't leave me alone."
"I won't. I promise." I grab a chair from the corner and position it next to the bed. "I'll be right here."
She closes her eyes. Her breathing gradually evens out. But even in sleep, she looks tense. Haunted.
I sit there watching her for almost an hour before her body finally relaxes. Really asleep now.
My phone buzzes. Vito.
We need to talk. Debrief on what you found.
I look at Elena. She's out. Deeply asleep from sheer exhaustion.
I text back: Give me 10 minutes.
I slip out quietly and call Sofia. "I need a favor."
"Anything."
"Can you come sit with Elena? She's asleep but I need to go upstairs to debrief Vito and I don't want her waking up alone."
"I'll be there in five minutes."
When Sofia arrives, I let her in quietly. "She's been through hell. If she wakes up, just... be there. Don't try to touch her or—just be calm. Reassuring."
Sofia nods, her eyes filled with concern. "Go. I've got her."
Upstairs in Vito's penthouse, the atmosphere is focused. Vito sits behind his desk. Dante is there too, his arm still in a sling. Rafa is at his laptop.
"Sit," Vito says, gesturing to a chair.
I all but collapse into the sofa. "Ronan and Elio?"
"Both secured in the basement at the warehouse. Separate cells, heavy guard." Vito leans forward. "Now tell me everything. What did you find?"
I walk him through it. The warehouse layout. The guards we took down. Finding Elena in that cell. Ronan's taunts. What he confirmed about the assault.
Vito's jaw tightens with each detail. "And Ronan gave up information before you brought him in?"
"Dante got safehouses and business locations out of him. Rafa's already confirmed they're legitimate."
Rafa nods. "We've got eyes on three properties. All active Costello operations."
"Good." Vito stands and walks to the window. "We move on those locations within forty-eight hours. Dante, despite your injury, I need you coordinating with Luca and Enzo."
"Not a problem, boss."
Vito turns back to me. "How is Elena?"
The question catches me off guard. "Physically? Doctor says she'll heal. Emotionally?" I shake my head. "She's not okay. Won't be for a while."
"The assault was confirmed?"
"Yes." The word tastes like ash.
Vito's expression darkens. "Then when the time comes, she gets to decide what happens to Ronan. If she wants to be the one to end him, that's her right."
"And Elio?"
"Also her decision. He's the reason this happened. She should decide his fate." Vito meets my eyes. "But Marco—she's not ready to make those decisions. Not yet. Give her time."
"I know."
"There's something else," Rafa interjects. "Tony wasn't working alone. The payment trail suggests someone higher up in the Costello organization was running him. And possibly others."
"Meaning we might have more moles," I say.
"Exactly. I'm running background checks on everyone who had access to Elena's movements, her schedule, your assignments." Rafa's fingers fly across his keyboard. "So far nothing concrete, but I'm looking."
"Find them," Vito commands. "I want to know everyone who betrayed us."
"There's one more thing," Dante says quietly. "Ronan mentioned during interrogation that this wasn't just about Elio's debt. He was using Elena to draw us out. To make us act rashly."
"Which almost worked," Vito says, looking at me.
"It did work. I went in exactly like he wanted—emotional, reckless." I run a hand through my hair. "If the situation had been different, if there'd been more guards or better security—"
"But there wasn't. You got her out. That's what matters.
" Vito's voice softens slightly. "But moving forward, we need to be smarter.
The Costellos are still out there. Whoever's running their operation knows we have Ronan now.
They'll either try to get him back or cut their losses and come at us harder. "
"Let them try."
"They will. Which is why Elena stays protected. Round the clock. No exceptions." Vito looks at me. "Can you handle that? Being her protection detail while also being... whatever you two are?"
"Yes."
"You're sure? Because if you're too close to this—"
"I'm sure." My voice is firm. "She trusts me. She needs someone she trusts right now."
Vito studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Alright. But Marco—don't lose your head again. We can't afford it."
A knock at the door interrupts us. Sofia bursts in, her face pale.
"Marco, you need to come. Now."
I'm moving before she finishes the sentence.
I can hear Elena before I reach my apartment. Gasping breaths. Broken sobs.
I burst through the bedroom door and find her on the floor, curled into a ball, hyperventilating.
"Elena." I drop to my knees in front of her. "Baby, look at me."
Her eyes are wild. Unfocused. She's having a full panic attack.
"I didn't—I woke up and I didn't know where—" She can't get the words out between gasps. "Thought I was still—thought they—"
"You're safe. You're in my apartment. Remember? You're safe."
"Can't breathe—Marco, I can't—"
"Yes you can. Look at me. Breathe with me." I demonstrate, exaggerating my breaths. "In through your nose. Out through your mouth."
It takes several minutes but gradually her breathing slows. The panic recedes slightly.
"That's it. You're doing great."
I reach for her shoulder—just to ground her, to let her know I'm here—but the moment my fingers make contact, she jerks away violently.
"Don't—don't touch me!" The words come out panicked. Desperate.
I pull back immediately, hands raised. "Okay. Okay, I won't touch you."
The look of fear on her face when I reached for her—that cuts deeper than anything else tonight.
She wraps her arms around herself, rocking slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just—I can't—"
"You don't have to apologize. Ever." I keep my voice calm even though my heart is breaking. "You don't have to let anyone touch you if you're not ready."
"But what if I'm never ready?" Her voice cracks. Tears stream down her face. "Is this what it's going to be like for me from now on? Waking up terrified? Not knowing where I am? Feeling like I'm still there?"
She looks at me with such despair. "Never being able to let you touch me? Or anyone? What if I can't—what if they broke that part of me forever?"
The question guts me. Because I don't have an answer. Don't know if she'll heal from this or if the damage is permanent.
"I don't know," I admit honestly. "I can't promise you that everything will go back to the way it was. That you'll wake up one day and this will all be gone."
More tears. She's shaking.
"But I can promise you that whatever this looks like going forward—whether you can handle touch tomorrow or next month or next year or never—I'm not going anywhere.
" I keep my hands on my knees, forcing myself not to reach for her even though every instinct screams to hold her.
"If you never want to be touched again, then we figure that out. Together."
"How can you say that? How can you want to be with someone who—"
"Because I want you. Not some version of you that exists without trauma. You. Exactly as you are right now." My voice is fierce. "Whatever healing looks like for you, however long it takes, I'll be here. Even if that means I never get to touch you again."
She stares at me, searching my face for a lie. For any sign that I don't mean it.
"You mean that," she whispers. Not a question. A realization.
"Every word."
"I don't know how to do this. How to be... this." She gestures at herself. "Broken and scared and unable to even let you—"
"You don't have to know. We figure it out as we go." I shift slightly, making sure I'm not crowding her. "Right now, what do you need? What would help?"
She's quiet for a moment. "Can you just... stay? In the room? I don't want to be alone but I can't—"
"I'll stay. I can sit in the chair if that's better. Or I can leave the door open and sit in the hall. Whatever you need."
"The chair," she says quietly. "Just... where I can see you."
I stand slowly and move the chair to where she can see me clearly from the bed. "I'm going to help you up now. I won't touch you unless you tell me it's okay. Can you stand on your own?"
She nods and pushes herself up shakily. Makes it to the bed. Climbs under the covers.
I sit in the chair, keeping my distance.
"Try to sleep. I'll be right here. Not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She closes her eyes but her body is still tense. Still braced for something bad.
I sit there in the dark, watching her. Keeping my hands to myself even though every fiber of my being wants to hold her. Comfort her. Take away her pain.
But I can't. All I can do is be here. In this chair. Keeping my distance. Loving her from across the room because that's all she can handle right now. And maybe that has to be enough.
After what feels like hours, her breathing finally evens out. Real sleep this time. I stay in the chair, keeping watch. Keeping my promise. Because I meant what I said. However long it takes. Whatever healing looks like.
I'm not going anywhere.
Even if it means I never get to touch her again.