CHAPTER 20 - Emilia
I cannot remember the last time I had a dream.
But this is not a dream.
It’s a nightmare.
Darkness.
The darkness grips me like a vice. The cold air against my sweat-drenched skin feels too much like the chill of Diego’s cell, the metal cuffs around my wrists, the way his voice slithered into my bones.
"You’re all alone, Emilia."
I jolt awake, gasping, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. My throat is tight, lungs burning, body frozen in place. The sheets feel like they’re suffocating me. I rip them off, my pulse wild, my breaths sharp and ragged.
My feet hit the floor. I stumble, disoriented. The room is too dark, too quiet. I’m back there. I have to get out—I have to—
A shadow moves.
I spin, fists raised, chest heaving, my vision blurring with panic. A deep voice cuts through the fog, rough and familiar.
"Emilia."
I freeze.
Rafe.
But my body doesn’t believe it. The fear is still in my veins, my muscles locked in survival mode. He reaches for me, and I flinch, instinct overriding reason. His face twists in pain, but he doesn’t stop. Slowly, carefully, he steps closer.
“You’re safe, baby,” he murmurs.
I don’t know if I believe him.
My body jerks upright, heart racing, lungs burning for air. My stomach burns from the stab wound I took during the fight.
The room is dark. Too dark.
A chill skates down my spine.
Where am I?
For a second, I think I’m still there. Still in Diego’s hell.
Still locked in that cell, waiting for the next time the door creaks open and the nightmare continues.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
The sheets feel like they’re strangling me.
I rip them off, scrambling to my feet, my entire body trembling.
And then—
"Emilia."
The voice is deep. Gravelly.
Real.
My breath catches in my throat.
I spin around, my vision blurring with panic, with disbelief, with something I don’t understand.
And then—I see him.
Rafe.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, watching me with those dark, haunted eyes.
The breath punches out of me, sharp and brutal.
He’s here.
But for how long?
Rafe moves cautiously, as if I might shatter at his touch. His hand hovers just above my arm before he makes contact, his warmth seeping through my skin.
"Shh," he murmurs, his voice raw. "It’s me."
I feel the way his fingers tremble, the hesitation in his grip, like he’s afraid that one wrong move will send me running. I close my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat, but the silence is too heavy, the weight of unspoken words pressing against my chest.
"You weren’t there," I whisper.
He stiffens. I feel it in the way his breath catches, the sudden tension in his muscles.
“You weren’t there,” I repeat, my voice cracking.
A muscle in his jaw ticks. He nods, as if he doesn’t deserve to argue, as if he’s been waiting for me to say those words.
"I know," he rasps, his grip tightening.
His voice is different. Not the cocky, untouchable Rafe I met weeks ago. This is a man barely holding himself together. A man who carries his own nightmares.
I press my forehead against his chest, squeezing my eyes shut. “I thought I’d die alone.”
His arms crush me against him, his body shaking. "I should’ve been there."
And for the first time, I hear the guilt breaking him apart.
I don’t realize I’m crying until his fingers are sliding into my hair, his lips pressing to my temple.
His voice is low, rough, almost broken.
"I never left you, baby."
I squeeze my eyes shut. "Then why did it feel like you did?"
A long pause.
Thena slow, shuddering breath.
"I know what it looked like," he murmurs. "I know what you think."
I shake my head.
I don’t want to hear it.
Because even now, even with him right here, holding me, breathing against my skin—
I don’t believe this is real.
I don’t believe he’s staying.
Because he always leaves.
I press my hands against his chest, pushing back just enough to look at him.
His face is a map of exhaustion and regret.
I want to believe him.
I want to believe that this time—he’s really here.
That he’s not going to walk away again.
But I can’t.
"Why did you leave?" I whisper, my voice shaking.
His jaw tics.
"I had to."
I flinch. Had to.
Not wanted to stay.
Not couldn’t leave you.
He had to.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat. "So what’s stopping you from leaving again?"
His eyes flash.
"You."
My breath catches.
"I left because I thought I had no choice," he murmurs, his fingers brushing against my jaw, trailing down my throat, resting over my racing pulse.
"I left because I thought I had to go back and end this before it touched you."
I stare at him, my mind reeling.
"Then why didn’t you tell me?" I whisper.
His breath shudders out. "Because I didn’t want you to wait for me."
I blink, stunned. "What?"
"I didn’t want you to waste your time hoping I’d come back when I wasn’t sure if I would."
His voice drops lower. Rough. Broken.
"I thought you’d be safer without me."
I let out a breathy, humorless laugh. "Safer?"
His jaw clenches.
I shove at his chest, stepping back.
"Rafe, I nursed you back to life," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I saved you."
He exhales sharply. "I know."
"And then you left."
His throat works, his eyes never leaving mine.
"You left me alone, Rafe. You went back to them. To Diego."
He flinches. "I thought I had to."
"And now?"
His fingers flex at his sides. "Now, I know better."
Silence.
Heavy. Crippling.
I shake my head. "How do I know you won’t leave me again?"
He steps forward, his presence overwhelming, suffocating in the best way.
His voice drops to a whisper, dark and rough.
"Because this time, baby, you’re coming with me."
Rafe moves first, his hands finding my waist, firm yet reverent, pulling me into the searing heat of his body.
A shiver races down my spine as his fingers spread, molding me against him, our bodies aligning with a primal inevitability that sets my blood on fire.
“Rafe—” My voice is a breathless whisper, cut off as he crashes his lips to mine, the kiss a wildfire, hungry and desperate.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me with a need that makes my knees buckle.
There’s no hesitation, only raw, unfiltered want, and I meet it with equal ferocity, my hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer, drowning in him.
“I love you, Emilia,” he murmurs against my lips, voice thick with raw emotion, “and I’ll never—fucking never—leave you again.
” The words crack something open inside me, a floodgate of longing and trust I thought I’d buried.
My fingers tighten in his hair, deepening the kiss, my body trembling with the intensity of it all.
His groan vibrates through me as his hands slide up my back, tracing the curve of my spine before dipping lower, gripping my hips, dragging me against the hard, unyielding press of his cock.
The feel of him, so desperate, so mine, sends heat pooling low in my belly, a throbbing ache between my thighs.
I arch into him, silently begging, and he takes, ripping my shirt over my head in one swift motion, baring me to his gaze.
His lips descend, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat, lingering at my pulse point, sucking hard enough to mark me.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasps, voice rough with desire, his hands palming my breasts, thumbs rolling my nipples into tight, aching peaks.
I gasp, my body arching, pleading for more as his touch sends sparks through my core.
His mouth follows, sucking one nipple hard, teasing with his tongue, nipping just enough to make me whimper, my hands clutching his shoulders.
His lips trail lower, kissing down my stomach, teasing the sensitive dip of my navel.
He hooks his fingers into my panties, peeling them away with deliberate slowness, leaving me bare, vulnerable, and burning under his gaze.
His eyes darken, a wicked smirk curving his lips.
“Look at you,” he growls, “so fucking wet for me already.”
Heat floods my skin, but before I can respond, he grips my thighs, spreading me wide, his breath hot against my aching pussy.
His tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe through my folds, and I cry out, head falling back, hands tangling in his hair as he groans, the vibration sending a jolt through me.
He devours me like a man possessed, tongue flicking, circling, sucking my clit with ruthless precision, each movement pushing me closer to the edge.
“Rafe—oh my God,” I moan, hips bucking, my pussy clenching as he slides two fingers inside, curling them against that perfect spot, thrusting in time with his tongue’s relentless assault.
I’m trembling, my thighs shaking, pleasure coiling tight in my core.
He grips my thighs harder, keeping me open, at his mercy, and I’m spiraling, teetering on the brink.
He pulls back, and I whimper, desperate for release, but his eyes burn with control.
“You come when I say,” he growls, voice thick with dominance, sending a fresh wave of arousal through me.
I bind his wrists with a leather cord from the bedside, a playful retaliation, securing them to the headboard.
His smirk is dark, approving, as he lets me take this small control, his body taut with anticipation.
I climb over him, straddling his hips, grinding against his cock, feeling it throb beneath me.
“My turn,” I murmur, leaning down to nip his throat, sucking a mark of my own.
His groan is primal, his wrists straining against the restraints as I tease his nipples with my tongue, trailing lower, kissing the ridges of his abs.
I free his cock, stroking the thick length, watching his jaw clench, his breath hitch.
“Emilia,” he growls, voice a warning, but I take him into my mouth, sucking hard, tongue swirling over the tip.
His hips jerk, a curse ripping from his throat as I work him, relentless, taking him deeper, hollowing my cheeks until he’s shaking, control fraying.
“Fuck, Emilia,” he groans, and I pull back, climbing up to kiss him, letting him taste himself as I straddle him again, teasing his cock against my slick folds. “You want me?” I ask, voice sultry, taunting.
“Fuck yes,” he snarls, and I sink onto him, taking him inch by inch, the stretch burning, perfect. He groans, head falling back, wrists pulling at the leather as I ride him, slow and deliberate, each movement driving us both wild.
I free his wrists, needing his hands on me, and he flips us, pinning me beneath him, his eyes dark with hunger.
“You’re mine,” he growls, thrusting into me, hard and deep, splitting me open.
I cry out, nails raking his back, legs locking around his waist as he sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting that sweet spot, driving me higher.
“Say it,” he demands, lips ghosting over mine, his pace relentless.
“I’m yours,” I moan, voice breaking as pleasure crests, my pussy clenching around him. “Again,” he growls, thrusting harder, deeper, his hand sliding to my clit, thumb circling with ruthless precision.
“I’m yours,” I scream, and I shatter, my orgasm crashing through me in violent waves, my pussy spasming, pulling him under. He follows, groaning my name, spilling deep inside me, his body shuddering as we collapse together, tangled, breathless.
For a long moment, we stay like that, hearts racing, breaths uneven. He rolls us, keeping me pressed against him, arms locked around me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. “I love you,” he murmurs, softer now, lips brushing my temple.
“I love you too,” I whisper, heart swelling, body still trembling. For the first time, I believe in forever, in the unbreakable bond we’ve forged.
Hours later, tangled in sheets, moonlight casting shadows across his face, I trace patterns on his chest, his fingers trailing down my spine. “We can’t stay here forever,” I murmur.
“I know,” he says, voice thoughtful. “We should leave Italy. Start fresh.”
I lift my head, searching his expression. “What?”
His lips twitch, a rare softness in his eyes. “I like how ‘we’ sounds.”
I bite my lip, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere you want,” he smirks, arms tightening around me.
“Then let’s go,” I whisper, the promise of a new life binding us closer.
But a distant crash shatters the moment, and Rafe stiffens, eyes darkening with the cold edge of his world. “Stay here,” he orders, pulling on his pants, the softness gone.
“Rafe—” I start, but his sharp look silences me. “What’s happening?”
“Viktor’s men,” he says, voice grim. “They’re here.”
I scramble for my clothes, defiance flaring. “I’m coming with you.”
His jaw clenches, but my resolve stops him. “Fucking impossible,” he mutters, a faint smile breaking through. “Stay close. My rules.”
I nod, our bond—forged in fire, sealed in love—bracing us for the blood and chaos ahead.