She sighs, understanding but sad. “Goodnight, boss.”
“Goodnight, Nicole.”
When she’s gone, the silence fills the hall again. I linger outside Isabella’s door for one more heartbeat, then turn away.
The bedroom feels colder than it did when I left.
The bandage at my shoulder is already darkening at the edges, but I collapse back against the sheets.
The ceiling stares back at me.
I try not to think of her.
Of the sound of her laugh in my kitchen.
Of her voice when she told me to be careful.
But my mind doesn’t listen.
It goes back to blood and glass and the moment my wife died—five years ago, a lifetime and a heartbeat.
She’d begged me to walk away from this life.
I didn’t.
And she paid for it.
A car bomb meant for me.
A phone call that came too late.
A promise I made to the ashes I buried: No more attachments. No more love. Nothing left for anyone to take.
Now there’s a woman sleeping under my roof.
A journalist who should hate me.
A fire I can’t put out.
And I can already feel the universe sharpening its knives again.
Because I know how this story ends.
Every time I let someone close, the world finds a way to bleed them for it.
I close my eyes, jaw tight, forcing the thought away.
I can protect her.
I can want her.
But I can never have her.
Not without burying another piece of my soul beside the lastone I lost.
Chapter 9
Ihaven't slept much since last night.
