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Primo gets up from the bed and takes a slower and more deliberate pace to the door. I look at him, unsure as to what our relationship is right now.
"Call Isabella," he says, pausing at the threshold. "She's out of her mind with worry."
Evelyn nods, her eyes heavy with unspoken understanding. She's got that look, all stoic and guarded, but I see the emotions beneath.
"And you," Primo turns towards me, his gaze locking onto mine. It's a look that weighs tons, heavy with things unspoken. "I'm proud of you." The words hit like a punch to the gut, unexpected from a man I thought had only scorn for my ways. Then he's gone, leaving the door to shut behind him.
I'm alone with Evelyn now. She sits down on the bed next to me and I want nothing more than to reach out to her, but I need answers, first.
"What happened, Evelyn?" My voice is a croak, barely above a whisper.
"What do you mean, what happened?" Her blue eyes meet mine. "There was a fight. You won."
I shake my head, trying to piece together fragments of memory. "No, that can't be..." My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat echoing the confusion that clouds my mind. "I don't remember killing Declan. Just... just landing a few good punches before I started to seize."
"Constantino, you did win," she insists, her tone soft but firm. "And I know it's hard to process." There's something in her eyes, a flicker of something dark and unreadable.
My mind races, replaying the flashes of the warehouse—there's bits and pieces of the fight all jumbled together. But the ending? It's a void.
Internally, I question it all—the story, the gaps, the too-neat ending. But I let it lie. Because in her guarded expression, in the way she avoids diving deeper, I sense a plea for silence.
The room feels heavy now, thick with things unsaid, and I know that's because I've been holding things back for too long now. Things I should have figured out and admitted as soon as I knew.
I turn to her and reach out for her hand. She lets me take it and I rub my calloused thumb over her delicate skin. In many ways I don't even feel worthy of touching her.
"You saved me," I rasp out, my throat raw as if I've been screaming into the void. My words hang in the air, an offering laid bare between us.
She turns, her face impassive, almost clinical. "I'm a doctor. It's what I do."
But she's missing the point. "Not like that," I insist, struggling to find the right words. The leather wristband feels tight against my skin, a reminder of secrets and survival. "You saved me from myself."
Her eyes soften for a moment, then harden again. She knows the darkness that coils within me, the primal rage that finds solace in control and dominance. Yet it's her touch, her presence, that has stilled the beast, tempered the storm.
"Constantino..." Her voice trails off.
"Listen to me," I say, each word punctuated by the fierce beat of my heart. "I intend to continue leading this family." My resolve is steel; it's the only life I know, the only one I was ever groomed for.
Her gaze flickers over me, taking in the set of my jaw, the intensity in my eyes. I see the questions forming in her mind, the doubt, the fear. But I barrel forward, not giving her the chance to interject.
"I can't do it alone. I need you, Evelyn. By my side." My confession is raw, stripped of any pretense. "Stay with me," I plead, my voice a hoarse whisper. "Stay with Evan and me."
"Why?" she asks me.
I suck in a breath and force myself to admit something that would leave me more vulnerable than the tattoo on my wrist.
"Because, Evelyn Moretti, because I love you."
For a heartbeat, the world hangs suspended, our breaths mingling in the space between us. Then she closes the distance.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I should be mad at him. I should hate him, actually. But no, here I am, lips locked with Constantino, and all I can feel is this wild, mad craving that drowns out everything else. The world outside this moment, with its ambitions and greed, fades like some distant echo.
I realize now that none of it matters. Not the lifestyle I was so preoccupied with. Not the career I desperately tried to hold onto.
What matters to me now is a little boy who's lost everything and a man who's laying his soul bare to me.
"Never thought I'd find myself here," I murmur against his lips, pulling away just enough to drink in the sight of him—all hard edges softened in the low light.
