ZOE DEAN’S POV
The drive to the airport was quiet.
Not the easy kind of quiet that feels peaceful — but the kind that’s heavy, filled with things neither of us dared to say.
I sat with my hands clasped in my lap, watching the city roll by through the tinted window. My thoughts were everywhere — the goodbyes I hadn’t properly said, the mories that still clung to , and the man sitting just inches away who once made forget how to breathe.
Nero didn’t say a word. He just drove, his expression unreadable, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift. Every now and then, his thumb tapped the leather — rhythmic, quiet, like a heartbeat.
I found myself morizing him again, the way I always did. The dark leather jacket, the tattoos peeking just above his collar, the stillness that sohow made him seem even more dangerous. I wondered if he wore black because it soothed him, because it matched the shadows he carried so well.
When the airport ca into view, the early morning light glinted off the private terminal. A sleek black jet waited at the far end of the tarmac — his jet. I could recognize it anywhere.
Nero pulled the car to a stop, cutting the engine. The hum faded, leaving only the distant echo of another plane taking off. For a long mont, neither of us moved.
Then his phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth. He frowned when he saw the na on the screen.
"Yes?" His voice ca low, calm, but it had that dangerous edge I rembered — the one that made people listen.
I couldn’t hear the other side of the call, but whatever was said made the muscle in his jaw tighten.
"I’ll have Benny handle it," he said finally, tone clipped. "No, don’t bring it to my attention again unless it’s absolutely necessary. We can’t afford to make this more complicated than it already is. I want everything done discreetly."
His voice had dropped even lower — deliberate, commanding.
Then, as if sensing my eyes on him, he glanced my way. Just briefly. His expression softened a fraction before he looked forward again.
"I’m about to board," he said into the phone. "Headed back to Thailand. My mission in Santiago is complete."
Mission.
The word hit harder than I expected.
Was I the mission?
I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until the call ended. He placed the phone down, and silence filled the car again.
I found my voice, though it ca out smaller than I wanted. "Is everything okay?"
He looked at for a mont, eyes searching mine — and then nodded once. "Everything’s fine. Let’s go."
He stepped out first and ca around to open my door. The gesture — so simple, so old-fashioned — tugged at sothing deep in my chest. He’d always done that, no matter where we were, no matter how angry he was.
The morning air slled faintly of sea salt and jet fuel. A few attendants waited nearby, all in crisp uniforms, trying not to stare. One of them reached for my suitcase while Nero exchanged a few words with a tall man in black — one of his n, no doubt.
I tried to listen, but the wind carried their voices away.
Even so, Nero didn’t let go of my hand. Not once.
When he turned back to , his face was unreadable again — calm, composed, the mask slipping back into place.
"You okay?" he asked, softer this ti.
I nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. I’m okay."
He studied like he didn’t quite believe that but let it go. Without another word, he guided toward the waiting jet.
The stairs glead in the sunlight. I climbed them slowly, my hand still in his. I didn’t look back — not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t move at all.
The cabin inside was quiet and cool. Cream leather seats. Polished wood. The faint, familiar scent of cedar and sothing distinctly him.
Nero led to a seat by the window. I sank into it, my palms cold despite the warmth in the air. He took the seat across from , and for a mont, we just... looked at each other.
He fit here. Effortlessly. Like the plane, the silence, the control — all of it belonged to him.
And yet, sitting across from was also the man who once wrapped his coat around my shoulders when I was shivering. The man who whispered he’d never let anyone hurt again.
When the engines humd to life, I felt it — the shift. The point of no return.
I turned to him. "Everything okay?" I asked, because it was the only thing that ca to mind.
He nodded. "Yeah. Just so final arrangents."
I nodded too. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, just... full.
As the jet began to move, I stared out the window, watching the runway stretch ahead until the plane lifted into the sky. The world below shrank — all the places that had held my laughter, my healing, my second chance at peace.
Aunt Gina. Paul. Micah.
My throat tightened. I hadn’t cried when I said goodbye. But now, in the quiet hum of the cabin, the emotion ca in slow, heavy waves.
I blinked fast, trying to stop the tears. One slipped free anyway.
Nero noticed. He didn’t say anything — just reached for a napkin and slid it across the small table between us.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely there.
He leaned back, eyes on . "You’re welco."
After that, the flight passed in fragnts.
Little monts.
Little words.
He asked if I was hungry. I told him about Micah’s obsession with video gas. He told Emily missed — that she’d been asking when I’d co back.
But beneath the small talk, there was sothing else. Sothing quiet and real. We both knew this wasn’t just a flight. It was a return — maybe even a reckoning.
At so point, I must’ve fallen asleep.
When I opened my eyes, the light outside had changed — the endless white of clouds giving way to a golden stretch of land below. Thailand.
We were back.
The word felt fragile in my chest.
Nero glanced at . "You okay?"
I nodded, still dazed.
"We’ll be landing soon," he said quietly.
"It feels strange," I murmured. "Coming back."
His eyes softened. "You don’t have to be afraid of coming back with ."
That caught off guard. There was sothing in his voice — a tremor, almost. Fear, maybe.
"I’m not afraid," I said gently. "It’s just... after everything, I feel uncertain. Like I don’t know what’s waiting on the other side."
He didn’t respond right away. Just looked at — really looked — like he could see all the things I wasn’t saying.
When the plane finally touched down, the soft jolt pulled back into the present. The sun outside was brighter here, the air sharper, almost electric.
The private runway was quiet, guarded. A black car waited near the edge — Somchai’s.
As we stepped off the jet, the humid air wrapped around like a mory. The scent of wet earth and jasmine hit all at once.
"Welco back, sir," the driver greeted when Nero approached.
"Thank you," Nero replied. "Is he expecting us?"
"Yes, sir. The estate is ready."
I followed silently, my shoes crunching against gravel. The driver took my bag and opened the back door.
Inside, the car slled of leather and sandalwood. I stared out the window as we drove — the streets, the vendors, the sounds — everything felt familiar yet distant.
Nero sat beside , silent again. Every now and then, I caught him sneaking glances at .
After a while, he said quietly, "You’re very quiet."
I smiled faintly. "So are you."
He tilted his head. "Are you angry at ?"
I looked out the window. "No," I said softly. "Should I be?"
He smiled a little at that — the first real smile since we left.
The drive wound through lush roads until the familiar gates of Somchai’s estate appeared ahead. My heart gave a small, painful lurch.
Everything looked the sa — the tall gates, the vine-covered walls, the murmuring fountain in the courtyard. But the air felt different now. Heavier. Like it rembered everything we’d been through.
When the car stopped, Nero got out first and opened my door. For a heartbeat, I hesitated. Then I took his hand and stepped out.
The air slled of jasmine. Sowhere in the distance, I heard temple bells.
It felt like walking into a dream I wasn’t ready to relive.
Nero’s voice ca quietly. "Welco back, Zoe."
I looked at him — at the man who’d once been my ruin and my refuge. My chest ached.
Before I could answer, I heard a voice shout my na.
"Zoe!"
Emily.
That voice — that bright, breathless voice — hit like sunlight breaking through clouds.
I turned, and there she was, running toward .
And for the first ti since we landed... I smiled.
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