Chapter 6 #2
Sofia flinched, stunned. Of all the things she expected, this was not one of them.
She held her breath, her entire world hanging in the balance of a decision she didn’t fully understand.
“I…” She wanted to refuse, to say it was too dangerous for him—but he wouldn’t have offered if he feared danger.
And she couldn’t forget how many times she’d sensed the predator beneath his skin.
“I will help you,” he said at last.
The words were rough, dragged from someplace deep and conflicted, as if he’d torn them out of himself to give them to her.
Guilt and doubt still pressed against her chest. “You could get hurt, and I—”
“I have the background necessary to keep myself safe. To keep you safe.”
“What background?” she asked, tension knotting her belly. “Military?”
“Yes. I did a tour as a Navy SEAL when I was eighteen.”
“Oh.”
Sofia’s breath caught. She remembered reading that SEAL selection was one of the most brutal training programs in the world, with only a tiny percentage making it through.
They were trained for counterterrorism, hostage rescue, covert infiltration by sea, air, and land, reconnaissance, and even sniper operations.
And Tonio… had been one of them.
Sofia hadn’t realized she’d been staring at him until he shifted in his seat and reached for the top button of his shirt.
“What are you—Tonio, we’re in public,” she whispered, eyes widening.
He didn’t answer. He unbuttoned two more, then slid the fabric aside to reveal the thick, corded muscle of his shoulder and biceps. Ink curved over his skin—clean, sharp lines etched into muscle built for violence.
Her breath hitched.
On his upper arm, a coiled serpent wrapped around a trident. Beneath it, a series of numbers—coordinates, she realized—followed by a single black band circling his bicep.
“This one,” he murmured, tapping the trident, “was my first. You only earn it if you graduate BUD/S.”
Her lips parted. “It’s beautiful.”
He huffed a low laugh, the sound dark. “I wouldn’t use that word, sweetheart.”
His fingers drifted to the black band. “Team leader,” he said quietly. “That mark is for the brothers I commanded. The numbers above it… missions no one talks about.”
She swallowed, unable to look anywhere but at his exposed skin. “And the serpent?”
“That one’s mine. Sniper designation.” He leaned back, his eyes holding hers with that steady, unnerving intensity. “Elite. Long-range. High precision.”
Her heart pounded, hard enough to make her palms sweat. She felt dizzy with this new image of him—danger made flesh, power inked into his body, secrets written in symbols only killers understood.
“And you’re telling me this because…?” she whispered.
“Because,” he said softly, rebuttoning his shirt one slow click at a time, “when I tell you I can keep you alive, I want you to understand that it isn’t a boast.”
He paused, his fingertips lingering at his collar.
“It’s a promise.”
Her pulse tripped, and for the first time, the fear inside her trembled… not with dread.
But with trust. And something far more dangerous. “Why would you help me?” she asked, needing—aching—to understand this man. “We are… we are still strangers.”
His mouth curved, slow and knowing, and that dangerous gleam lit his eyes. “The moment I kissed you, we stopped being strangers.”
Her breath trembled. She tried again. “I will repay you one day.”
“I’ll collect,” he said, his voice as dark as sin.
Heat shot through her belly at the way he said it—as if he meant to claim payment from her flesh, from her breath, from her body beneath his. Shockingly, Sofia wasn’t repulsed. Something hot and needy curled between her thighs, so sharp she had to look away.
“Thank you, Tonio,” she managed, her voice low.
“You will thank me properly one day,” he murmured.
And God help her, she believed him.
A dizzying relief washed through her, sweeping the fear away. She wasn't alone anymore. She had an ally. The grim set of his mouth was a promise of retribution, and for some inexplicable reason, Sofia believed in it.
He leaned back, his expression shifting from focus to calculation. “The diary. Where is it now?”
The question was so matter-of-fact it startled her. “In a safe-deposit box. I didn’t want to keep it at home once I realized what it was.”
He nodded once. “Good. It stays there. You don’t touch it unless I’m with you.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. A couple of weeks ago, that tone would’ve made her bristle. Tonight, it felt like armor being fitted to her shoulders.
“We need a starting point,” she said, the old determination stirring again—tempered this time by his presence. “Padre Gabriele. He’s the key. A nun told me he worked at the orphanage back then. She thinks he knows what happened, but every time I call, he’s not around.”
Tonio’s face stayed impassive, but she caught the faint tension around his eyes.
“A priest who disappears right after you start asking questions?” he said. “That’s confirmation that he is involved.”
Sofia nodded. “So we find him. Make him talk.”
“We don’t do anything,” he corrected. “I’ll find him. You stay visible but safe. Go back to the usual places you’ve been visiting—the library, the historical society. Let them think you’re still digging. If they’re watching you, I’ll be watching them. It gives me control of the board.”
She frowned. “You’re making me bait.”
He didn’t flinch. “A predictable target is easier to protect than a hidden one. You trust me, or you don’t.”
It was brutal logic—cold, clear, and impossible to argue with. Her faith in him wasn’t blind; it was the kind that comes when fear leaves no other option.
“All right,” she said quietly. The word felt like a contract.
He pulled out his phone, typing fast. “Good. I’m next door to your room. If anything happens, you call. I’ll be there before anyone else.”
As they stood, he rested a hand lightly on her arm. His thumb brushed the edge of the bruise on her wrist—a fleeting, almost involuntary touch. His gaze dropped to the mark on her arm, and when his eyes met hers again, they were dark with a pained intensity that took her breath away.
“From now on,” he said, low and controlled, “you tell me everything—any strange car, any strange number that calls. You don’t decide what matters. I do. Understand?”
She nodded. It didn’t feel like submission. It felt like safety. A strange trust bloomed where her fear had been.
He walked her to her car, a silent shadow under the harsh light. “I’ll follow you back to the motel. The hard part starts tomorrow.”
Driving away, she watched his headlights in the rearview mirror—a constant, twin glow that matched her speed, never falling back, never getting closer.
Strangely, she didn’t feel afraid. What filled her instead was a charged, dangerous calm.
She had a protector. A strategist. It felt surreal… yet it also felt right.