Grace didn't sleep that night.
She lay in bed, sheets wrapped around her like a cocoon, staring at the wooden ceiling while the faint scent of bleach and blood lingered in the cabin. Luciano had buried the bodies behind the shed. Without flinching. Without remorse.
And still, her heart beat faster when he was near.
She hated that.
She hated how drawn she was to the man who killed without blinking—but touched her like she was something fragile. Like she was the only thing in his life not already ruined.
By morning, the fog had settled low and thick around the trees.
Luciano was already up, standing outside with a cigarette between his fingers, his black T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, bloodstained jeans damp from dew.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
"Didn't try."
Grace leaned on the porch railing beside him. "Are they going to keep coming?"
"Yes."
She turned to face him. "Then tell me the rest of it."
His jaw tightened.
"I know there's more," she continued. "Why are they willing to kill for your silence? You said your cousin betrayed you—but this feels bigger than family drama."
Luciano crushed the cigarette under his boot.
"Dante made a deal with the cartel. They wanted access to the ports my family controlled. He promised them that. In return, they promised him control of New York."
"But he needed you out of the way."
Luciano nodded. "So he staged a hit. Told the world I was dead. The few loyal to me either disappeared... or joined him."
He turned to her then, his voice low, dangerous. "The men last night weren't Moretti. They were cartel."
Grace's eyes widened.
"They're not just trying to finish me," he added. "They're testing to see who's protecting me. Who I might've contacted. If they find out you're not just a nurse, but a witness... you won't live to tell anyone else."
Grace swallowed. "So what do we do?"
His eyes darkened. "We stop running."
She blinked. "Luciano—"
"No more hiding. I'm going back to the city."
Her heart dropped.
"I'll handle this," he said. "And when it's over, I'll come back. If you're still here…"
She grabbed his wrist. "Don't make this sound like a goodbye."
"It might be."
Her voice cracked. "Why do you always push me away the second I start to care?"
He didn't answer.
So she stepped forward. "Do you want me, Luciano?"
A pause.
His voice was raw. "More than I should."
"Then prove it. Stay."
"I can't."
"You won't."
He cupped her cheek suddenly, gently, like she might shatter. "If I stay… they'll find you. They'll kill you. And worse… they'll use you to get to me."
Tears blurred her vision.
"I don't care," she whispered.
"But I do," he growled. "I would burn the world before I let anything happen to you."
Then he kissed her.
It was hard, desperate, consuming.
A kiss that tasted like sin and salvation all at once.
And just as quickly… he pulled away.
"I'm going to end this," he said. "And when I do, Grace…"
He pressed his forehead to hers.
"I'll come back for you."
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