Page 128 of Fire and Silk
I don’t wipe my tears. I don’t look away. He’s staring at me like I’ve grown claws. Like he doesn’t know what to do now that I’ve stopped pretending I’m sane.
He looks at the gun on the floor.
Then at me.
“You’d rather die than be with me?”
I bend down, pick it up again, slow, measured. The gun is warm from the shot.
I meet his eyes as I raise it again—not to him . But straight to my own head.
My voice is hollow.
“Over and over again.”
He stares at me. A single tear slides down his cheek, and he wipes it away like it betrays him.
He opens the door and steps out. His face is washed out now, tear-streaked and shadowed under the fluorescent parking lot lights. He doesn’t slam the door. He just leans in through the open window, eyes dull.
“He’s going back to them,” Mico says quietly. “ToMarrazzi Estate. He’s giving it all up—the inheritance, the ports, everything. Mina and Maksim so they’d let you live.”
Mico keeps talking. “You want to find him? Follow the M3 eastbound. Take the Kinglake turnoff at Hazeldene. You’ll reach the foothill road in two hours, maybe less if you don’t stop.”
His fingers tighten briefly on the window frame, then let go. He takes one step back. “He loves you. He only did this to save you.”
Then he walks away.
Just like that.
I don’t think. I don’t blink. I shove the door open and climb over into the driver’s seat, one knee landing hard onthe gearshift. My fingers are slippery. I can’t breathe. I jab the ignition. The engine kicks alive.
My hands are shaking.
The wheel feels too wide. The air is too hot. My foot slams the pedal and the tires screech out of the lot.
I drive.
I can barely see the lines on the road. My chest pulls so tight I feel like I’m going to vomit. I bite the inside of my cheek. It doesn’t stop the tears. Nothing does.
They spill fast. I scream into the empty car— choked, all from the back of my throat—but I don’t slow down. I can’t. I hit the highway at full speed, windshield slick with city light and grief.
My hands won’t stop shaking. I keep them on the wheel. I drive through it.
****
After hours, the road bends into view of the estate.
Marrazzi Estaterises like a shadowed monolith against the horizon—elegant, endless, cruel. I see the front gates wide open. No hesitation. I don’t slow. I don’t blink.
I drive straight through.
Gravel sprays under my tires as I burst into the compound. Men start shouting. Shapes rush from the front steps—armed guards in black. I slam the brakes, and the car jerks to a stop. They pounce immediately.
I kick the driver’s door open hard—metal cracks against bone—and two bodies reel back. I’m already out before theyrecover. My hand finds the pepper spray and I aim fast—one, two, three men stagger back clutching their faces. I grab the gun tucked in my waistband. Men drop.
But there are more.
Rough hands seize my arms. One grabs my waist. Another wrests the gun from my fingers.
