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Manic took a deep breath before answering, his hands shaking. He put the phone on speaker, placing it on the bed as he hovered over me.

“Update,” Manic ordered. “Where are you?”

Silence festered for a few seconds until Axell’s voice carried through the speaker. “In a secure location with no prying ears. Coroner reports came through, matching two individuals with the names Manic Mortaine and Sutton Hale. You’re out, Manic.”

Our eyes immediately locked, and a breath of relief escaped me, along with a flood of tears.

The heaviness on my chest dissipated, leaving nothing but weightless freedom. Manic might be wild and impulsive, but he was utterly mine. He secured our freedom. Axell, too.

From this day forward, we could do whatever we wanted.

“Thank you, Axell,” Manic said, his voice cracking. “I owe you—for everything.”

“No you don’t. I’d do it again, and if you need…” Axell sighed over the phone, like he was having a hard time with his words. “Don’t be a stranger. Both of you.”

Manic smiled, real and genuine. “I won’t.”

When the phone shut off, Manic looked at me with that same smile and whispered, “We’re out, baby. The world is ours.”

38

SUTTON

We stepped onto the cobbled street, leaving behind the hiss of espresso machines, the clinking of porcelain cups, and the faint scent of freshly baked croissants. Café tables crowded the walkway, citrus and salt carrying on the breeze.

Everything felt warm and easy, untouched by the chaos we left behind in Vancouver. No, our chaos was replaced with warm laughter from a nearby terrace and people drifting by in airy clothes, their movements unhurried—almost lazy. Their dresses swayed in the soft wind that rolled off Lake Como. Golden sun spilled across the stucco walls crowding our path, and I just breathed it in.

It was easy, wasn't it?

And yet, here I was, pouting with a hand tucked under my arm as I held an iced coffee in the other. My hair blew back, a frown on my face, and my linen skirt whipped behind me as we sauntered down the street.

“Are you done yet?” Manic asked lightly beside me, his movements also easy. It was annoying.

He wore tan linen trousers and an open collared shirt, the white sleeves rolled to his elbows. His temporary black hair dye had faded, and he now wore the pale blond I was so accustomed to. It was shorter though, but long enough to tug on.

Ever since we landed in Italy three months ago, he’d had this weightlessness to him. He hadn’t even checked the cameras in Vancouver. I knew why he’d do it, though—to keep an eye on Naomi.

Yet I gritted my teeth at his carefree demeanor, like we didn’t just receive the most annoying news.

“It’s not like we won’t find something else,” he added.

“Easy for you to say,” I grumbled, shaking my head. “We’ve been looking for two months, and every time we like something, it gets bought. So no, I’m not done yet.”

After receiving our visas, we began villa hunting. He’d shown me his hidden bank account when we’d arrived—an account with enough zeros that had my pulse thundering and my face paling. Manic had been saving his money and skimming off the top of Ronan’s illegal dealings since he could hack into accounts. It was clever, but also frightening to know.

And apparently, Ronan had no idea.

So while money wasn’t an issue and we could afford anything we wanted in Lake Como, each villa we’d liked would almost immediately go off the market. It was unfortunate that neither of us could agree on anything.

Manic was determined to be near the water, yet I wanted a personal library and more of a yard—somewhere we could eventually have a garden and a place to read. And the one we had both liked—which was in walking distance to the café’s with a yard, built-in bookshelves, and near the water—had gone off the market just two days ago. He broke the news to me this morning, and I’d been in a sour mood ever since.

Manic chuckled and wrapped an arm around my neck, burying his nose into my temple. I sighed, giving in as we veered down our usual path toward our rental. We walked past shuttered windows draped in sage and beige curtains blowing in the wind.

Then I groaned, realizing where we were walking when we took another turn, and the secluded path came into view. “I do not want to look at it on the way back.”

A mischievous smirk tilted his mouth when I glanced up, and my heart stuttered. I knew that look.

“We could… break in,” he offered with a casual shrug. “Check it out one last time before the family moves in. The realtor said they won’t move in for another month.”