The silence that followed was the kind that humd inside your chest . It was sharp and unsteady, like the world itself was holding its breath.
The echo of the last gunshot still rang faintly in my ears.
For a mont, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even think.
All I could do was watch Jace standing there, chest rising and falling, his hand still clutching the gun. The veins in his arm stood out under the harsh light, his shirt torn and streaked with blood so of which were his.
He didn’t move toward right away. He just stared at Massimo’s body for a few long seconds, like he was making sure it was real this ti. That it was truly done.
Then, slowly, he lowered the gun and turned to .
Our eyes t.
I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t even have to.
That one look said everything. The fear, the relief and the unbearable weight of what almost was.
He crossed the space between us in a few strides and dropped to his knees. His hands reached for mine, untying the knots that held down. His fingers shook slightly, not from weakness, but from everything he’d been holding in.
"Hey," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. "You’re okay now."
The ropes fell away. The mont they did, I lunged forward, throwing my arms around him so hard that we nearly fell to the floor together. My face buried into his shoulder, breathing him in smoke, sweat, gunpowder, and the faint trace of his cologne that I’d missed so much even when it had only been a couple of hours.
"I thought you were gone," I choked out, my words broken between breaths. "I thought—"
He cupped the back of my head, holding tighter. "I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere."
His voice was steady, but I could feel the tremor in his chest. He was just as shaken, maybe even more. For the first ti, the man who always looked untouchable — my husband, my storm — looked human. Flesh, blood, and all the pain he’d been carrying for too long.
We stayed like that for what felt like forever. We were two people clinging to each other in a world that had finally stopped spinning.
When I finally leaned back to look at him, his gray eyes t mine. They were softer now, but heavy. Haunted.
There were bruises blooming along his jaw and a small cut on his brow that bled down to his cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb.
"You’re hurt," I said quietly.
He gave a small, tired smile. "You should see the other guy."
Despite everything I felt, naly; the fear and exhaustion, I laughed. A shaky, half-sob, half-laugh that made his smile deepen.
It was the first ti in days that either of us had truly breathed.
He lifted a hand to my face, tracing the line of my jaw, his touch feather-light. "I’m sorry I made you go through this."
"You promised to protect ," I whispered. "And you did."
He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down my cheek. "I never wanted it to co to this."
"But it’s over now," I said, my voice firr than I felt. "Right?"
He hesitated, eyes flickering briefly toward the fallen man across the room before returning to . "Yeah," he murmured finally. "It’s over."
Sothing in the way he said it told it wasn’t entirely true that the world he ca from never really allowed endings. But for tonight, I chose to believe him.
He stood and helped to my feet, his arm steady around my waist as though afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
The faint sound of sirens in the distance carried through the cracked windows, but Jace didn’t look back. His n would handle it. They always did.
Outside, the air was cold and damp, the night sky streaked with gray. As we stepped out of the abandoned building, I saw the first light of dawn beginning to break.
It was beautiful, fragile and quiet like the universe itself was starting over.
Jace opened the car door for and made sure I was settled before circling around to the driver’s side.
Neither of us spoke during the drive. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other holding mine the entire ti. Our fingers were intertwined so tightly, it almost hurt but neither of us wanted to let go.
When we reached the outskirts of the city, the first rays of sunlight spilled across the dashboard. Jace’s profile was caught in it. It was sharp and soft all at once.
He glanced at then, his voice low. "You were brave tonight."
I turned to him, still holding his hand. "You were insane."
He laughed quietly, that deep, rough sound that always made my chest tighten. "Maybe. But it worked."
"It always does," I said softly. "That’s what scares ."
He didn’t answer, but the small squeeze of his hand told he understood.
The road stretched endlessly ahead, golden light spilling over the horizon, and for the first ti in a long while, I didn’t feel afraid.
We were both exhausted, bruised, and covered in the weight of everything we’d survived but we were together. And that was enough.
As we reached the hotel gates, Jace slowed the car and turned to fully, his gray eyes soft in a way they only ever were when he looked at .
"No more running," he said quietly.
"Promise?" I asked.
He nodded. "Promise."
When we walked inside, Donna Carla was waiting in the lobby,, her expression unreadable. I didn’t even know she was here. She looked at Jace first, then at , and the slightest hint of relief crossed her face.
"You look like hell," she said simply.
Jace smirked. "Feels about right."
I laughed under my breath, and for a fleeting second, everything felt okay again.
Like maybe this really was the end.
I hoped it was.
God, I hoped it was.
But deep down, as Jace’s arm tightened around my waist and I felt the steady beat of his heart against mine, I couldn’t shake the thought that peace for people like us never lasted long.
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