Page 72 of Lord of Obsession

His smile turns sharp, predatory. "I have contingencies in place. Safe routes, clean identities, vehicles with no paper trail." He brushes hair from my face, the gesture oddly intimate. "The benefits of planning this particular obsession for months."

I can't help the small laugh that escapes. "You really did orchestrate all of this from the beginning, didn't you? From that first night in the library to now."

"Not this exactly." Something unreadable flashes across his features. "I wanted to break you down, to force you to acknowledge what you are. To make you stop pretending at normalcy." His thumb traces my lower lip, touchfeather-light. "I didn't expect to become so invested in the outcome."

The admission costs him something, I can tell by the slight tension in his jaw. Dario Greco doesn't admit vulnerability easily. Neither do I, for that matter. But something has shifted between us, transformed our collision course into something else entirely.

"Invested." I echo the word, testing its weight. "That's what we're calling it?"

His eyes meet mine, all calculation stripped away to reveal raw honesty. "What would you call it?"

The question hangs between us, heavy with implications I'm not quite ready to voice. Instead, I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my touch.

"A choice," I finally say, the words carrying more weight than their simplicity suggests. "My choice. Not made under duress or manipulation, but with eyes wide open to exactly what I'm getting."

His smile softens slightly, something almost vulnerable passing across his features before his usual mask reasserts itself. "Good enough. For now."

Footsteps approach from the hallway—Enzo, judging by the cadence. Dario shifts back slightly but doesn't release my hand, maintaining connection even as the door swings open.

"Transport's ready." Enzo's eyes flick between us, noting our proximity without comment. "We have a three-hour window before the next security sweep catches the route."

Dario nods, all business now as he helps me to my feet. "Your leg?"

"Functional." I test my weight against it, ignoring the fire that shoots through damaged tissues. "I'll manage."

"You'll do better than manage." He slides his arm around my waist, taking some of the burden without making it obvious. "We have too far to go for heroics."

Enzo hands me a small duffel bag containing fresh clothes and basic necessities. Everything we own now fits in two bags and whatever we can carry on our persons. A stark reminder of everything we've left behind.

"I've arranged a meeting with Torres in Darien." Marco's voice drops lower, meant for my ears alone as Dario checks the hallway. "He still owes your father. He'll providewhat you need to make it out of the country."

I squeeze his arm in silent thanks. Enzo has just committed fully to our side, providing connection to my father's old network. If Salvatore discovers this betrayal, Enzo won't survive the week.

"Be careful," I tell him, the warning encompassing everything left unsaid between us.

His smile carries decades of service to violent men. "Always am. Now go. Build something better than what you're leaving behind."

Dario returns, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts as he takes in our exchange. "Time to move."

The safehouse falls away behind us as we slip through side streets and maintenance corridors, following the exit route Enzo arranged. Each step carries us further from the lives we've abandoned, from family obligations and blood loyalty and all the chains disguised as protection.

Rain begins to fall again as we reach the nondescript sedan waiting in an alley three blocks away. The driver—one of Dario's people, judging by his deliberate lack of eyecontact—hands over keys without a word before melting into the shadows.

"Where to?" I ask as Dario helps me into the passenger seat.

His smile carries edges sharp enough to cut. "Away. For now." He slides behind the wheel, the engine purring to life beneath his touch. "Then anywhere we want. We're not running anymore, remember?"

The city blurs past as we navigate toward the outskirts, toward temporary safety that will buy us time to implement longer-term strategies. I watch familiar landmarks fade in the rearview mirror, the skyline of Montcove growing smaller with each passing mile.

"No regrets?" Dario asks, his eyes never leaving the road ahead.

I look at him, really look at him. "None." The certainty in my voice surprises even me. "You?"

His hand finds mine across the console, fingers intertwining with possessive surety. "Only that I didn't find you sooner."

The words settle something restless in my chest as the last of Montcove's outline disappears behind us. We drive toward an uncertain future, both our families hunting us,violence and danger waiting at every turn. But for the first time in years, perhaps ever, I feel something close to peace.

I've stepped off the edge and into free fall, with no guarantee of safe landing. But I'm falling with Dario beside me, his hand steady in mine as we leave the wreckage of our old lives behind.

---