ELIANO #13
"Good luck, Ennio. You’re gonna need it."
"Don’t worry about it. Keep matters safe on your side. And change your phones if you’re using burners. That was a rookie mistake."
"Fair enough," I mutter, because from him I can accept the scolding.
I hang up, deleting the call history first, of course, and then leave the room.
Walking down the corridor, I realize I should take Ennio’s words to heart.
They’ve injected something into me, a new kind of positive energy.
After all, I don’t have to leave Salt again.
At least for once, someone else can do the dirty job.
Fate was merciful enough to grant me an easier way out of my impossible situation.
◆◆◆
Salt takes the news that Ennio might be planning to end things with Rocco for good with cautious optimism. He says we’ll celebrate when headlines about the capo’s death start popping up.
But, I still catch a subtle shift in him, a surge of hope and excitement he tries to hide, maybe for my sake.
That afternoon, Salt and I dare to go out for a walk into the hills surrounding the buildings for the first time.
Technically, we slip out because the beta guards make it very clear we should not be taking risks, just in case someone might be lying in wait with a sniper rifle on the other side of the ridge.
But I know Salt simply longs for fresh air. He needs to feel the sun, the wind, the shift in energy, because being cooped up in a room like this day after day is crushing.
We sit down on a small cluster of rocks, and for a long while we just watch the ocean.
At this point, we still have no idea what Gomez’s decision about our fate will be, if we get a new unit, what the police are going to determine, or whether we will be sent somewhere under their supervision to some kind of safe house or hideout. What will happen?
Even after what Ennio said, I still have no idea how fast this is going to move. I don’t know if Rocco already has something lined up for me.
In the past, he liked hitting the same target twice in a short span because he knew people slip into a false sense of security. Like, okay, the worst is over, we’ve got a minute to breathe.
Wrong, bastards.
But being paranoid and stressed all the time is exhausting, so I just lie down next to Salt in the grass and close my eyes for a minute.
I can sense his movement as he turns toward me, his hand sliding gently over my face in a soothing, tender motion, and I let myself drift, breathing deeply, catching brief moments in this madness that can still be gentle and pleasant, his closeness, his energy against mine.
Slowly, I fall asleep.
And I dream of something strange.
I’m walking between large warehouses that I vaguely recognize as ones belonging to our family.
There’s a car, Ennio’s limousine.
I can see him standing next to it, looking at one of the buildings.
Suddenly, there’s a flash of intense light.
Something explodes in the warehouse he’s looking at.
A wave of destruction spreads outward, the ruins swallowing everything around them, reaching farther and farther, while a huge mushroom cloud rises above the city, like after a nuclear blast.
The center of the explosion is flattened out. In the dream, I can see the vague outlines of warehouses on the ground. Everything collapses like houses of cards, turning into something that looks like a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
The whole landscape is now gray, dust rising everywhere, and only in the very center do I think I see two small figures locked in some strange, desperate duel, but I have no idea who they are.
I feel this overwhelming certainty that the world is ending, that something has shattered beyond repair. That all has changed.
Pure terror spreads through me, my body flooded with stress.
Shaking, I wake up and let out a gasp.
But everything is fine.
I see Salt lying beside me, propped up on one elbow, watching me.
It’s funny to even notice things like that at such a moment, but I can see that his blue strands are only blue past a certain length; at the roots, his natural black hair has grown in. The wind’s stirring the loose strands, daylight filling his gray, stormy irises.
His pupils are perfectly symmetrical, the muscles have adapted, and Salt’s eyes are now normal, as he looks at me with something hard to pinpoint.
"You were groaning in your sleep," he says quietly. "A nightmare?"
I chuckle faintly.
"You could say that. A very absurd one. The whole city was destroyed, everyone died, and it all started in warehouses owned by the mafia. I think a bomb went off there."
"Maybe it represents your emotions about your family," he says after a moment. "The dream is showing you something, the inner conflict, the tear in your loyalty to them."
Suddenly I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I feel his sweet scent, mixed with vanilla, around me, and all I want is to focus on him.
Something catches my eye. A strip of natural black hair shows near his scalp as the blue dye slowly fades.
"You’re not dyeing your hair blue anymore?"
Salt turns his head away abruptly, a little embarrassed. "No. The dye might not be healthy for the baby."
I realize I also haven’t seen him smoking since I went back from the mainland.
"He’s becoming more real to you, isn’t he?" I whisper.
Salt nods gently, playing with a blade of grass.
For a moment, I watch the faint crease between his brows. He looks like he’s thinking something through.
"And your hair… you haven’t cut it in a few months."
Instinctively, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my curls. It’s actually grown out quite a bit, a few inches already.
"Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it soon. Pip probably offers that kind of service."
Salt huffs. "That’s not what I mean. Just… did you ever have long hair? Back then, before we first met, I mean. I’m asking because it’s starting to curl."
I let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah. I always had it down to my shoulders, all curls. I cut it the day I ran away from the fortress." I exhale. "It felt like a fresh start."
Salt blinks and looks away again, his gaze drifting toward the ocean, suddenly distant.
I watch him for a second, then ask, "Why?"
He hesitates, squinting slightly.
"You know… after I shot those bastards, I wanted to kill myself.
I put the barrel under my chin, ready to pull the trigger, but…
I saw something. A vision. An alpha, kneeling in a cage.
His back was torn up from a whip, bleeding.
He had black, curly hair down to his shoulders, falling over his face… "
Silence settles between us, broken only by the soft rush of the coastal wind through the long grass.
"And I heard a voice telling me, Don’t give up. So I didn’t pull the trigger."
I don’t know what to say. My throat tightens.
Salt closes his eyes. "I think it was you. I saw you in that cage. I know Anzo kept you there, hurt you… I think our souls were already connected somehow, Eliano. I saw you, and you gave me this little push I needed to keep living."
I swallow hard before I manage to say, "I’m glad you didn’t pull the trigger, Salt. You’re… everything to me."
He blinks abruptly and lowers his gaze, as if my words made him cringe.
At this point, Salt seems fully accustomed to tender gestures, but romantic confessions? That’s still a work in progress.
Silence settles between us.
My hand slowly slides over his sides, to his stomach, and it suddenly hits me that it is just slightly more rounded. The difference is tiny, almost imperceptible, but I know his beautiful body too well.
"You’re starting to show."
"Oh…" he murmurs, sounding unsure. "Do I?"
"Yeah." My fingers gently stroke his naked skin, visible under the edge of his T-shirt. "It makes me happy. It makes me want to live another day, for him. For you. No matter what."
Salt’s eyes change, and he turns his head away, as if wanting to hide that they are glimmering with moisture in the sunlight. The Salt I remember from the first day we met seems to have come a long way. There are moments when he lets himself be more unguarded.
"I don’t want you to leave the island," he admits quietly.
"I really hope the Rocco problem will solve itself.
I need you. Here." I can tell it’s still hard for him to be vulnerable, given his self-reliant character, but I feel immense joy seeing him grow comfortable depending on me, letting it feel natural instead of awkward.
"If anyone can deal with this, it’s Ennio. But if not, I will find some way out of it, Salt. I swear it to you."
He looks at me again and sends me a relieved smile.
"Now that’s the Eliano I know. You take your time to think things through and find solutions, always."
I chuckle, lift my arm, and pull him closer. We lie there wrapped around each other for a moment, but his vanilla scent, mixed with his sweet, recently bloomed Allure, pulls my thoughts into warmer, brighter places, easing the weight in my chest.
Then, casually, without any plan, our mouths meet in a lazy kiss, unhurried, as if this entire hillside and all the grass beneath us belong only to us, even though someone could wander by at any moment.
Our tongues brush lightly, and I trail kisses along his cheek and jaw, tasting the sun lingering on his skin before finding his lips again. It’s lazy, slow, languorous.
My hands slide over his back and slip under his shirt, feeling the silky warmth of his body.
Salt sighs softly into my mouth, his fingers tracing relaxed, absentminded circles along my neck, drawing me deeper into the kiss.
The air around us is heavy with the scent of sun-warmed grass and salty ocean water, and I feel my body slowly waking, my heart beating faster, my need to lie on his slender body growing.