The door to the bedroom of the penthouse suite creaked open with a low groan, spilling golden light from the hallway into the dimly lit room. The plush carpet muffled footsteps as Alexei walked in, his tall figure outlined against the frame like a shadow. His presence carried weight—his broad shoulders, the scar etched across his face catching the light briefly before he closed the door behind him.
She was awake, waiting. Her body, though weakened, was propped up against pillows in the king-sized bed. The sheer curtains swayed from the soft hum of the Miami night pressing against the glass walls. Her lips tugged into a small, mischievous smile when she saw him.
"Missed me, Scarface?"
The words were teasing, a spark of familiarity wrapped in fragile breath.
Alexei froze mid-step, then let out a low laugh that rolled deep from his chest. His hand brushed his jaw as if to cover the involuntary grin. "As much as I hate that name," he said, his accented voice warm with a rare softness, "I still missed you. I'd have given anything to hear you say that again."
The room went quiet, the hum of the city outside filling the silence between them. For a moment, she simply studied him—his scar, the hardened planes of his face, slashing across his eye, leaving him with one good eye, the vulnerability hiding in his eyes. He was here, alive, and so was she.
Her voice broke the silence, blunt as ever. "Help me out of bed."
His brow arched. He leaned casually against the nearest chair, folding his arms across his chest, his stance betraying both amusement and caution. "You should be resting."
She rolled her eyes, a flash of her old fire returning. "Just because I use a wheelchair doesn't mean I have to stay in this bed for hours like some fragile doll. I want to go to the balcony, Alexei. I want to see the city from above." Her voice softened, almost wistful. "I've never seen Miami like this before. The only times I was here were with Salvatore, and back then…" She trailed off, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Back then I never had the chance to admire the view."
Her gaze shifted toward the double doors that led to the balcony, framed by heavy curtains. Beyond them, the neon heartbeat of Miami pulsed against the night. "It's nighttime. The city must be beautiful."
Alexei's eyes narrowed, torn between duty and the pull of her plea. "You should be resting," he repeated, though his voice had lost its firmness, fraying at the edges.
She shot him a smirk, sharp and knowing. "You should shut up and help me. That's the least you can do after losing me at the pre-Halloween carnival."
The remark hit with the weight of memory. His throat worked, his jaw tightening as guilt flickered across his features. He cleared his throat roughly, shifting his stance. Without another word, he crossed the room, his movements careful, deliberate.
He reached the bedside, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he slid an arm beneath her back and another under her legs. She caught his scent—cigarette smoke faintly lingering beneath expensive cologne, and something uniquely Alexei. He lifted her with a steadiness that belied his size, lowering her carefully into the wheelchair positioned beside the bed.
"Comfortable?" he asked, adjusting the blanket across her lap.
She tilted her head, offering him a satisfied smirk. "For now."
He pushed the wheelchair forward, the sound of rubber wheels gliding over the polished marble floor echoing softly. The suite around them was bathed in muted amber light—plush furniture, crystal glasses half-filled on the bar counter, the faint scent of fresh lilies in a vase. But her eyes were fixed ahead, on the balcony doors.
When Alexei reached them, he paused, his hand curling around the cold brass handle. With a quiet push, the double doors swung open, and the world outside spilled in.
The night air rushed forward—warm, tinged with salt from the distant ocean, carrying the faint scent of rain that hadn't yet fallen. Miami stretched endlessly below, alive with light. Neon signs glowed electric pink and blue, headlights traced silver veins across the dark streets, and music pulsed faintly from far-off clubs like the city itself had a heartbeat.
He wheeled her forward until they reached the wide balcony, stopping just at the edge where the glass railing framed the view like a living painting.
She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a long moment. When she exhaled, her lips curved into a fragile smile. "It smells like freedom."
The words hung in the air, delicate and raw. Alexei didn't answer. He stood just behind her, hands resting on the wheelchair handles, his gaze fixed outward though his thoughts remained on her.
Silence settled between them, comfortable and heavy all at once. The city murmured below, their quiet retreat suspended high above it.
After what felt like minutes, her voice broke through again, softer this time. "Where's Alejandro?"
Alexei's gaze flicked down at her, his scar catching the light from the city. "He'll be here soon. The moment he heard you were found, he…" He paused, exhaling through his nose. "He went crazy. Nothing could keep him still."
A laugh slipped from her, soft and genuine. "How typical of him." Her shoulders relaxed, and she let her eyes fall shut again, listening.
The city below roared on—cars honking, music thrumming, laughter echoing faintly up to the heights of the penthouse. To her, it was more than noise. It was proof she was alive, safe, not trapped in the nightmare she thought might never end.
Her fingers curled lightly over the armrest of the chair. It feels good to be back. To feel the breeze against her skin, to know she wasn't chained or silenced. She could almost forget the weight of hospital rooms and locked doors.
Almost.
Her brow furrowed slightly. "Alexei…" Her tone was hesitant, thoughtful. "Why me?"
He glanced down at her, uncertain.
"Why was I the target at this year's carnival?" she asked, opening her eyes and fixing him with a steady gaze. "Why me, Alexei? There were hundreds of people there. Why was it me?"
The question lingered like smoke, refusing to disperse. The night air cooled slightly, brushing against their skin as if carrying the weight of it.
Alexei didn't answer right away. His eyes lingered on the skyline, on the jagged edges of skyscrapers cutting against the night sky. His silence was louder than words.
She studied him, the tightness in his jaw, the way his scarred face shifted slightly in the glow of city lights. She could tell he knew more than he was saying.
But for now, she let it go. Closing her eyes once more, she leaned back into the chair, listening to the world below. The neon pulse of Miami was her lullaby, her reminder that freedom—fragile as it was—still belonged to her tonight.
Alexei stood behind her, silent sentinel, his presence steady as the city burned bright around them.
And though her heart should have felt light, that lingering question—Why me?—clung to her like a shadow, darkening the edges of her newfound freedom.