Page 133 of The Vagabond

“I can’t do this right, not with you here, not when you’re all I see, all I want. I can’t protect you and fix this at the same time. I need to put my shit back together so I can come back to you — the way you deserve.”

She shakes her head, tears glinting in her eyes.

“I don’t care?—”

“I do,” I whisper fiercely. “I care. I need you safe, Maxine. I need you somewhere they can’t reach, somewhere the Bureau can’t use you against me. And I need to know when I come back for you, I’m coming back as a man who can stand by your side. Not a man running for his life.”

Her hands clutch at my arms, voice breaking.

“Saxon, please?—”

“I love you,” I say, cutting through her panic, my voice cracking wide open. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. And I’m doing this because Iwon’tlet you watch me fall apart piece by piece. I will not drag you down with me.”

She crumples into me, shaking, sobbing. I hold her, burying my face in her neck, burning the smell of her skin into memory.

“I’ll come back to you,” I whisper. “But not until this is over. I swear it, Maxine.”

The drive back is quiet,heavy. She sits beside me, staring out the window, fists clenched in her lap, the pain written in every stiff line of her body.

When we pull up to the Gatti estate, I kill the engine, staring straight ahead.

“Your sister’s waiting,” I murmur, voice low, cracked, barely holding.

Maxine turns, slow, deliberate, her hands fisted at her sides, her breath shaking so hard it looks like her body might break under the weight of it.

Her eyes — God, those eyes — lock on mine, shimmering with unshed tears, glassy with heartbreak she’s trying to choke back.

“That’s it?” she whispers, voice sharp, thin, trembling like ablade pressed against my throat. “You’re just going to leave me here? Walk away… again?”

I suck in a breath, chest heaving, fingers curling tight at my sides.

“It’s only for?—”

She cuts me off — a flick of her hand, a shake of her head, her ice-blue gaze slamming into me so hard it shreds something deep in my chest.

“Don’t,” she rasps. “Don’t youdarelie to me right now.”

And fuck — I see it. The devastation. The shatter. The way her heart is fracturing in real time, piece by piece, sharp edge by sharp edge. And the worst part? I can’t even say I don’t feel the same. Because I do. I’m burning alive from the inside out, suffocating on every word Iwantto say and every word I can’t.

My jaw clenches, my throat tight, my whole body straining like I’m holding back a scream. But I can’t take it back. Iwon’ttake it back. Because walking away is the only move I have left to save her from the wreck I’ve become.

Her breath hitches, a sharp, ragged sound that cuts through the air like a gunshot.

“You said you’d never let me go,” she whispers, voice splintering. “You said you’dalwayscome for me.”

I reach for her — and stop myself. Hand hovering midair. Fingers shaking.

“I will,” I breathe. “Iwillcome back for you, Maxine.”

But her head shakes, her lips tremble, and I see it — the moment she stops believing me. The moment she realizes I’m not just breaking her heart. I’m breakingus.

And God help me — I know I deserve every fucking ounce of her fury.

She stares at me for one more breath — one long, shattering breath — and then she gets out of the car without a secondglance. There’s no goodbye and no soft words. Just the sharp pull of her shoulders, the stiff set of her jaw, the way her fists clench at her sides as she walks away from me, through the Gatti compound gates, toward her sister.

And I sit there. Frozen. Dying inside.

My fists curl so tight my knuckles crack. My chest heaves, my throat burns, and every part of me screams to run after her, to crush her against me, to promise her I’ll never let her go.

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