Luca had followed. I didn’t know how. I didn’t hear him enter. I didn’t feel him near me in the room. But he was there. Close enough to see the gun and Valentina’s soldier. Close enough to step between me and the second shot. And close enough to take the bullet meant for my heart.

I turned too late. I heard the thud before I saw the blood. And then I saw him—crumpled on marble, red blooming beneath him like a cursed flower. His hand twitched. His head tilted toward me. I screamed his name—something primal, broken, not even human. It tore from my throat like it had claws of its own.

I crawled to him. I didn’t feel the pain in my shoulder. I didn’t notice the blood on my sleeve. All I saw was him. Luca, bleeding out in front of me, the softest man in the harshest room. I touched his face.

He smiled through the blood. “Told you I wasn’t afraid.”

Valentina was dragged away screaming. Her hands clawed at the floor, nails scratching against stone.

“No!” she shrieked. “She’s nothing! I was supposed to be everything!”

Her voice cracked like a spoiled mirror. Guards lifted her by both arms. Her heels scraped against the marble, leaving streaks of rage. But I didn’t watch her. I only watched Luca.

Dante arrived too late. He burst through the door, breathless, gun drawn, eyes wild. He took one look at the blood and the gun on the floor and lowered his weapon slowly.

“What happened?” he asked. His voice was small. I didn’t answer. My world was narrowed to the heartbeat pulsing under Luca’s skin. Weak. But still there.

The ambulance came in minutes. Matteo’s men cleared the space. No sirens. No flashing lights. Just urgent hands and white cloth soaked red. I didn’t leave his side. I held his hand as they strapped him down. His shirt was soaked. His lips pale. But his eyes—still so clear. Still mine.

They tried to move me. I didn’t let them.

“She rides with him,” Matteo growled from somewhere behind me. “That’s an order.”

No one argued. They made space. I climbed into the back. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I pressed one to his chest anyway.

“Don’t you dare die,” I whispered. “Not after everything.”

He looked at me, blood in his teeth, breath shallow. “Still not part of the plan?” he asked. His voice was soft. Half pain, half teasing. I choked on a laugh and wiped blood from his mouth with the cuff of my sleeve.

“You’re the only part that matters,” I said.

I had seen death before. I had caused it. But nothing prepared me for this. Not when the blood wasn’t from an enemy. Not when it stained someone I wasn’t ready to lose. I pressed my hands to his wound. The warmth of it haunted me. I whispered his name again and again, like it might hold him here.

The paramedic worked fast. Tourniquet. IV. Oxygen. I watched every move like a hawk. Like if I blinked, he’d slip away. Luca’s eyes fluttered once. I squeezed his hand tighter.

“Stay with me,” I begged. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.” He didn’t. But the light behind them dimmed.

Valentina’s screams echoed from outside the building. Matteo must have ordered her transported elsewhere. I didn’t care. Let her scream. Let her burn. Let her memory die before her body did. She had taken too much already. I wouldn’t let her take this.

Dante hovered in the background. He tried to speak twice. I didn’t let him.

“Not now,” I said, without looking. He went quiet. For once, he understood. This wasn’t about him. Not anymore. He had chosen his side too late. And this wasn’t his pain to touch.

The marble under Luca had stained deep. I stared at it while we drove. It would never wash out. No matter how many cleaners, how much bleach. Some blood stays. Just like some people do. Even when it nearly kills them. Even when it should.

Luca coughed once. I jumped.

“Still here,” he rasped. “Barely.”

I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. My tears were locked behind steel. I brushed sweat from his forehead.

“You shouldn’t have come.” He grinned faintly. “You say that like you don’t know me at all.”

We hit a bump. He winced. I gripped his hand tighter.

“You were supposed to be safe,” I said. “You were supposed to stay back.”

He turned his head slightly. “You were supposed to love someone more easily.”

That broke me. Just a crack. But I felt it. Like a rib finally giving in to pressure.

He tried to lift his hand and failed. I caught it. I brought it to my lips.

“You idiot,” I whispered against his knuckles. “You beautiful, reckless idiot.” His breath was shallow but steady. Every beat of his pulse said the rest.

The ambulance smelled like antiseptic and endings. Every turn jolted us, every siren whispering that time was thinner than I wanted to believe. I’d always been good with control. With power. But this—this chaos inside me—I didn’t know what to do with it. I held his wrist. Felt the weak throb. Count every beat like a prayer.

I remembered things I wasn’t supposed to think about then. Luca handed me a towel in the training yard. Luca watched me work at three a.m. without saying a word. Luca saying, “You scare me,” and still staying close. And now, Luca is bleeding in my arms, still trying to make me laugh.

Matteo’s voice came over the radio briefly.

“ETA seven minutes.”

He didn’t ask how Luca was. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He just said, “We’re ready.” It grounded me. Reminds me this wasn’t the end. Not unless I let it be.

I leaned close, whispering into Luca’s ear. “Don’t close your eyes. Don’t drift off. Stay with me.”

He grunted. “Loud as ever.”

I laughed, tears finally falling. Just one. He caught it with his free hand.