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“And you are mine,” he says, his thumb brushing my lip. “Guilt and all. I do not give a fuck what we deserve. She is not cursing us from the grave, okay?”

I shake my head. “I think we are cursed either way. This thing between us—it is not normal. It cannot end happily. We are kidding ourselves if we think it can.”

His hand hovers over mine before pulling back. “I will fix it. I will protect you. Those bastards who touched you? They are dead. I swear it.”

“Stop,” I close my eyes. “I do not need your promises. I need you to let me be.”

He does not move, his eyes locked on mine, fierce and unyielding. “I cannot. You know that.”

I glare at him because deep down, I do not want him to. Even now, with my head pounding and his world crashing into mine, I want him here—his heat, his chaos, his fucked up devotion. I hate myself for it. Hate him more.

I lie back, staring at the ceiling, the hum of the hospital machines filling the silence. He stays, a stubborn shadow I cannot shake. My head spins with more than just pain.

Sophia’s call from that night rings in my ears—the one I did not answer. She died mad at me, and now Adriano’s carving his own chunk in me. I hate that I need that. Hate that it might be my punishment for loving him when she cannot forgive me for it.

This is his life bleeding into mine with violence, secrets, and bodies stacking up. I protected him tonight, kept his name out of their mouths, and for what? To keep this twisted thing alive? I wonder if I’m strong enough to walk away, to let him go for good. But the truth gnaws at me, cold and ugly: I do not know if I can.Not when he is the only one who makes me feel this alive, this broken.

Sometimes I think life is just a game of who gets to hurt you first. Sophia’s death taught me that. In a flash, she was just gone after being hit by some drunk asshole who did not even stop. I carry that every day, a knife in my gut that twists when I least expect it. Maybe I deserve this. Maybe it is penance for failing her. Or maybe I’m just too weak to say no to the one person who sees me, really sees me, and still stays.

“Ralph’s on it,” he says suddenly, breaking my thoughts. He pulls out his phone, thumb jabbing the screen. “He will find those fuckers. You rest.”

I roll my eyes. “Great. Your lapdog’s going to save the day.”

He smiles. “Lapdog? He would gut you for that.”

“Bring it,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “I could use a good fight.”

He laughs. “You are something else, Penelope.”

“Yeah, a real catch,” I say, voice dripping sarcasm. “Bleeding in a hospital bed, covering for a psycho. Living the dream.”

He leans closer, his breath brushing my ear. “You are my dream. Fucked up as it is.”

I turn my head, our faces inches apart, and my pulse jumps. “That is the problem,” I whisper. “It is too fucked up to last.”

He does not argue, just holds my eyes, and the tension crackles, hot and heavy. I want to shove him away. I want to pull him closer. I do neither, trapped in this limbo where we both know the truth: this is killing us, and we cannot stop.

Chapter 13

Adriano

I crash my fist into the warehouse table, the metal groaning under the hit. “We’ve got them,” I growl, glaring at the map Ralph shoved in front of me. Red ink circles a rundown dockside shithole, Ricci’s rats’ nest, where those bastards who jumped Penelope are holed up. Of course Ricci won’t be there as he has been a freaking coward hiding and sending hIs goons to do his dirty work. We haven’t even been able to find him and interrogating his shit-for-brains men came to a dead end. But I’ll get him. For sending his asshole son after my Penelope and for what his men did to her. I will get him.

My blood’s boiling as I address Ralph, itching to spill theirs. “Round up the crew. We hit them tonight.”

Ralph nods, already barking orders into his phone. Ten of my men grab their guns, checking clips with sharp clicks, their faces set like stone. These pricks hurt her, cracked her skull, then left her bleeding and I’m gonna bury them alive for it. Every second I picture her in that hospital bed, bruised and pale, and I die a little.

“Boss one more thing,” Ralph says, stepping close, my voice dour. “She’s gone. Penelope checked herself out of the hospital an hour ago. Slipped past Tommy and the boys I had watching her.”

My stomach lurches. “What the fuck do you mean, gone?” I grab his collar, drawing him forward. “You were supposed to make sure she didn’t move an inch!”

He holds up his hands. “She’s smart, Adriano. Ditched them clean. Nobody’s seen her since.”

I shove him back, cursing under my breath. “Fuck!” My head’s spinning—she’s out there, hurt, alone, and probably visible to sick fuckers out for me. Quiet people, like Holden. I haven’t heard from him. I know it is only a matter of time before he shows me what he’s planning after what I did to him.

I rake my hands through my hair, pacing the concrete floor, boots thudding hard. The realization that having her in my world is causing more harm than good crushes me and it is so freaking frustrating that there isn’t much I can do to make it all stop.

“You take Tony and Marco. Hit Ricci’s crew. Make it bloody and send that asshole a message he cannot crawl away from. I’m finding her.”

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