Page 71 of King of Violence

“That’s the one,” he says, grinning now. “They’re offering me a scholarship. Full ride.”

My heart stutters, a mix of pride and panic flooding my chest. “Julian, that’s…that’s incredible.”

“It’s more than that,” he says, his voice softening. “It’s a way out. Arealway out. Away from my father, the family, all of it. I wouldn’t need to rely on anyone but myself.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with possibility. I want to match his excitement, to throw my arms around him and tell him this is everything he deserves. But all I can think about is what it means.

“You’d be leaving,” I say quietly. “Leaving everything.”

“Not everything,” he says, his hand finding mine beneath the blanket. “Not you. I don’t want to do this without you, Felix.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes my throat tighten. “Julian, I still have law school. I can’t just?—”

“Then come with me,” he says, cutting me off. “Cooper has a great law program. You can transfer. I have some not-illegal money set aside. We can start over, Felix. Together.”

His words are a lifeline, a vision of a future I never dared to hope for. But it’s terrifying, too. Leaving means abandoning the life I’ve built, the safety net I’ve clung to.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you really ready to walk away from all of it?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “I’m ready. The only thing I need is you.”

“But I can’t leave my mom.”

“Annie Caruso conveniently got offered a high paying job in the same city as Cooper University. She just called me today because she wanted to make sure I’d take care of you.” Julian raises an eyebrow.

I shake my head. “Julian Convenient Greco, was it?”

“That is my legal name, yes sir.”

The weight of his conviction steadies something in me. I search his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but there’s none. He means it.

I nod slowly, a small smile breaking through. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

Back inside, the fire casts a warm glow across the room as we settle in front of it. The decision we’ve made feels monumental, but in this moment, it’s just us.

“I love you,” Julian says suddenly, his voice raw and unguarded.

“I love you, too,” I reply, my chest tightening with the depth of the feeling.

Our lips meet in a slow, tender kiss, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself believe in the future we’re building. Wrapped in each other’s arms, with the fire crackling softly beside us, it feels like the start of something new. Somethingours.

The next morning,I wake to the smell of coffee and the faint sound of shuffling in the kitchen.

Julian’s already up, standing by the counter with a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. He’s wearing one of my sweaters, oversized on him, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Morning,” I say as I lean against the doorframe and take in the sight of him.

“Morning,” he replies, flashing me a smile. “I figured I’d make us breakfast.”

“You can cook?” I tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Sort of,” he admits. “I’m good at eggs. And toast. And, uh, coffee. Real husband material.”

“Husband, hm?” I say, walking over to him. “Impressive.”

He shrugs and flips the eggs with surprising skill. “You’ll see. I might just blow your mind.”

As we eat, the conversation stays on lighter topics—favorite childhood memories, embarrassing moments, things we’ve never had the chance to share before. It’s easy, comfortable, the kind of connection I never thought I’d find in the middle of all this chaos.

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