But deep inside, I know the shadows of these days will linger. They will hide in quiet moments, haunt the edges of dreams, and whisper behind my closed eyes when I least expect it.
For now, though, I push those thoughts away. I cling to him, to the fragile, unsteady certainty that for this moment, I am safe.
Gently, he shifts, lifting me with ease into his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says quietly.
I rest my head against his shoulder, my fingers still tracing the lines of his face as he carries me toward the door. The harsh light beyond stings after the oppressive dark, but I do not look away. Every step carries us further from the dungeon, the cold damp stone, the stench of despair, the place where I almost lost myself.
Outside, the air is sharp and clean. It fills my lungs like a breath of something forgotten but desperately needed. Giovanni does not set me down until we reach the car, his hands steady and careful as he helps me inside.
Tomasso stands at the door. “It’s clear. We’re heading back. Two of the men have gone after Renato,” he reports, “And we already disarmed every threat outside before we moved in.”
Giovanni nods once, his face grim. “Make sure they find him.”
Tomasso nods and glances at me. “I'm glad you're okay, Lili. Really glad.”
I smile my appreciation as Giovanni climbs beside me. The door closes, sealing us in the quiet sanctuary of the car. His fingers find mine, thumb brushing gently over the raw skin where the ropes bit deep.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice low and full of regret.
I shake my head softly. There will be time enough for apologies. For now, there is only the road ahead, the steady hum of the engine, and the man beside me who walked through darkness to bring me back.
I lean into him again, eyes closing as the tension in my chest begins to ease. The ache in my body remains, but it has shrunk, becoming distant and small.
I do not know when sleep finds me. But when it does, my dreams are not of shadows and running, but of standing in the light, his hand wrapped tightly around mine, a quiet promise held between us.
33
GIOVANNI
The relief of holding Liliana in my arms is a tide that threatens to drown me, her fragile weight against my chest the only thing keeping me grounded. Her breath is shallow, her body trembling from the dungeon’s horrors, but she’s here, alive, her fingers clutching my shirt as if I might slip away.
I press my face into her hair, the faint scent of her buried beneath the damp rot of captivity, and I cry, tears burning my cheeks, raw and unstoppable. I’ve never broken like this, not for anyone, but for her, my wife, the mother of our twins. I let the fear and guilt pour out.
“I’m here, cara,” I murmur, my voice cracking, “I’m here.”
I pull back to cup her face, her bruises and cracked lips a knife to my heart, and I vow, “No harm will ever come to you again, not while I breathe. I swear it.”
The promise is carved into my soul, and I can’t stop the words that follow, spilling like a prayer. “I love you, Liliana. I love you.”
I press my hands to her swollen belly, desperate for a sign of our twins, and a faint kick answers, a miracle that steals my breath.
“They’re alive,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with raw emotions.
She manages to smile as her hands sign weakly, I love you too.
It's like a fragile thread binding us. The moment is everything, our family whole despite the darkness we’ve endured.
I carry her into the estate, her body too light, too broken, the night air sharp against my skin. Tomasso opens the door, his face creased with relief and desire to step in and help. But I shake my head, letting him know that his help is not needed here.
I take her to our bedroom, the warm golden glow of the lamps a stark contrast to the dungeon’s cold stone. I lay her on the bed, careful of her wounds, and she clings to me, her fingers tight, as if I might vanish.
I fetch warm water, soft cloths, and salve, tending to her with trembling hands, each bruise a testament to my failure. Herwrists are raw, her ribs tender, and I move slowly, murmuring apologies for the pain, for my mistake that made Vittorio take her right under my nose.
She watches me, her eyes heavy but trusting, and it humbles me, this woman who endured hell to flush out my enemies, and yet still loves me.
I bathe her gently, dress her in soft silk, and tuck her under the quilt, my hand never leaving hers. I press my palm to her belly again, feeling another kick, stronger now, and I smile, whispering, “Our babies are fighters, like you.”
She nods, her eyes fluttering closed, and I sit beside her, guarding her as she drifts into sleep, my heart aching with love and guilt.
