Chapter Thirty-Six — Vinny
Two days.
I’d been awake for two fucking days, and Bael still wouldn’t let me see her.
The white-hot pain slicing through my gut was nothing compared to the agonizing ache in my chest every time I asked about Jamie, only for Bael to tell me to shut up and rest. I was stitched up, pumped full of heavy antibiotics, and lying in one of our safehouse bedrooms like a goddamn invalid.
Every single time I tried to swing my legs over the edge of the mattress, Bael or one of his people pushed me right back down.
“Rest, bro,” Bael said again, leaning heavily against the doorframe with his massive arms crossed over his chest. “She's good. You ain’t. Handle your own shit first.”
“I need to see her,” I growled, my voice sounding raw and scraped hollow. “Just tell me she’s okay.”
"I've been awake for two days, Bael."
"Yep."
"And I haven't seen her once."
"Nope."
I glared at him, my knuckles turning white against the blanket. "Bael. I swear to God—"
"You need to rest before she starts nagging you," he cut in, completely unfazed.
"Don't tell me what the fuck I need." I shifted, instantly wincing as a sharp line of agony tore through my side. I pressed a hand over the thick bandages. "Where is she?"
Bael didn't answer.
"Bael. I swear—"
A sharp knock at the door cut me off. Bael didn't move an inch, didn't even blink. He just barked, "Come in."
The heavy wood door swung open, and Rome shoved Jamie into the room.
He pushed her hard enough that she stumbled a step before catching her balance. I immediately noticed her wrists were raw and red, marked with angry zip-tie burns. My hand curled violently into the bedsheets, my vision flashing red.
Jamie straightened up, glaring back over her shoulder at the giant. “You big bitch," she spat, her eyes flashing with pure fire. "I’m gonna kick your ass if you push me like that again, on God.”
"What the fuck did you do to her?" I snapped, my glare cutting to Bael. "Why the hell is he treating her like that?"
Bael didn't even blink. "What? The bitch is hardheaded. She tried to bolt the second we got clear of the hospital. Feisty as fuck, wanting to throw hands with grown-ass men. It was either tie her up, snap her neck, or let her run."
I glared at him but bit my tongue, forcing the lethal urge down. I wanted to drag myself out of this bed and put my hands around his throat, but my body wasn't fully mine yet. The bullet wound pulled violently every single time I drew a breath.
Bael stood up straight, stretching his massive frame like he had all the time in the world. Then, he turned his cold gaze onto Jamie.
"Your brother and your daddy won't be looking for you anymore," Bael said, his tone entirely flat.
"You can thank that country boy Marcus Beaumont for that. He sent word down the line that you’re under his official protection now, and nobody crosses the Beaumonts.
As for the Colombians? I handled them. You can thank my dead momma's connections for that.
Santiago Castano wanted a piece of Miami.
I don't give a fuck about any of that territory anymore, but I acted like I did.
Sat across from the man. Let him think he was getting a deal, and negotiated your way out of the contract. "
He paused, leveling a warning finger at her. "If anybody ever comes for you again, you mention the name Atticus Roman, or you mention Marcus. That will end it right there. Do not use my name. You’re welcome."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out. The heavy door clicked shut behind him.
The bedroom became entirely quiet, the silence vibrating between us. Jamie still hadn't looked up at me. She just stood near the foot of the bed, her eyes glued to the hardwood floor.
"Jamie."
Nothing.
"Bael said you were going to leave me."
Still no response.
"Jamie. Come here."
She finally moved, crossing the space and sitting down on the very edge of the mattress. She did it carefully, deliberately, as if she believed I was made of fragile glass.
I reached out, my trembling fingers bridging the gap, and took her hand.
She looked down at where our fingers intertwined, then slowly raised her eyes to meet mine.
"How did you find me that night?"
"The day I took you I put trackers in yall your stuff. I also spoke to Moses.
Nodding"Why?" she whispered.
"Why what?"
"Why did you come for me again? You put your life on the line... you don’t owe me a damn thing, Vinny."
“What kind of question is that?” I asked, a faint, rough chuckle escaping my chest. “Because you were there. That’s why I came.”
She blinked back the moisture in her eyes. "That's it?"
"That's it." I shrugged, though the movement pulled sharply at my stitches. I didn't care. "You think there's supposed to be some big, dramatic speech? Some fairy tale reason? Nah. You were in deep trouble, Jamie. I went. That's just what you do for people you—"
I stopped myself, the words catching in my throat.
She waited, her breath hitching. "For people you what?"
I looked down at our hands. Her fingers had tightened around mine, holding on for dear life.
"For people you love," I said clearly.
The word hung heavily in the space between us. She didn't say a word, just stared down at me with those big, soulful brown eyes—the ones that looked like they'd seen far too much of the world, yet not enough all at once.
"You love me?" her voice cracked, raw with disbelief.
"Yeah," I said, stating it like it was the simplest truth in the world. Because it was. "Yeah, I do. It’s been that way for a minute now. You seriously ain't notice?"
She shook her head, a single, heavy tear finally spilling over her lashes. "I don't know how to do this," she whispered, her shoulders trembling. "I don't know how to let somebody... I was gonna leave you, Vinny. That proves I don’t deserve to be here."
"But you didn't leave."
"That’s only because of Bael. He had Rome drag me into a car before I could get down the street."
"No." I pulled her hand just a fraction closer, forcing her to look at me. "I think you would have changed your mind anyway."
She wiped her face with her free hand, a watery, self-deprecating laugh escaping her. "You got a lot of faith in me."
"Maybe." I shifted slightly in the bed, suppressing a wince. "Or maybe I’m just going by what I already know. You stayed before, Jamie. You nursed me back to health when you could have run. I'm just betting on that girl."
She looked at me, the walls around her heart visibly crumbling. I stared right back.
"Give me thirty or forty years," I murmured.
"Thirty or forty years?"
"Yes. Maybe fifty. If you still want to run away after that, I swear I won't stop you.”
“I love you,” she whispered, the confession tearing out of her like a secret she couldn't keep anymore. “I hate how much I love you, Vinny, because it feels too soon... and it feels like I’m stealing something meant for another woman. But I do.”
The words hit me with a force far greater than any bullet ever could.
I reached up, cupping the back of her neck, and pulled her down to me.
I kissed her—deep, heavy, and possessing—pouring every ounce of the life I had left into her mouth.
When we finally pulled apart, her eyes were shining in the dim light of the safehouse.
The shadows were entirely gone.
“No more Sophia between us. No more running,” I said firmly, my thumb wiping a tear from her cheek. “You told me once not to live in the past. So you have to stop doing it, too.”
She nodded, a real, beautiful smile breaking through her defenses.
Carefully, she shifted and crawled onto the bed, curling her body up beside mine.
She rested her head gently against my chest, one hand laying flat directly over my heart, as if she needed the physical proof of it beating beneath her palms. I wrapped my arm securely around her shoulders, holding her tight against my side.
We lay there together in the quiet room, letting the heavy emotions of everything we’d endured finally settle into the floorboards.
Outside these walls, the world was still a dangerous, unpredictable place. Her family was still corrupt, my past was still blood-soaked, and the streets didn't care about either of us. None of that had disappeared.
But in here, with her breath warm against my skin, I finally had something worth fighting for.
Something worth living for.