Page 114 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
I shove the thought away before it can take root.
"You’re safe now." The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I have.
Sofia exhales a shaky breath, and for the first time since I found her, I see something fracture in her expression. Not defiance. Not anger. Just exhaustion.
Her hands fist in the fabric of my jacket. "Marco…"
I wait.
She looks at me like she wants to say something else, something important, but instead, she just shakes her head. "I didn’t think you’d come this fast."
"You should have known better."
She lets out a weak, humorless laugh. "Yeah. I should have."
I can hear the others approaching now—Enzo, Rico, the rest of my men pushing through the trees, closing in on us. But for these last few seconds, it’s just us.
I brush a strand of hair away from her face, my fingers lingering against her cheek. "Can you stand?"
She nods, but when I help her up, her legs buckle. I catch her before she falls, my arm steady around her waist.
"Just a little dizzy," she mutters.
"Just a little stubborn," I correct.
She glances up at me, and despite everything, the corner of her mouth twitches. "That too."
I hold onto that moment, that sliver of familiarity in all this chaos, and then Rico steps into the clearing, gun raised, eyes sweeping over the scene.
"Boss." He stops when he sees Sofia, relief flashing across his face before his expression hardens again. "You good?"
I don’t look away from her.
"Yeah," I say. "We’re good."
Sofia is in my arms, safe.
Or as safe as she can be after what she’s been through.
She’s still trembling, her body leaning into mine despite the wall of defiance I know she’s trying to rebuild around herself. I feel every inch of her—every shallow breath, every rapid pulse point, every unspoken word hanging between us. But there’s no time to unravel any of it.
I need to get her out of this goddamn forest.
I shift my hold on her, preparing to lift her into my arms, but the radio clipped to Rico’s vest crackles to life.
"Boss, you there?"
It’s another of my men. His voice is brimming with urgency.
I grab the radio before Rico can respond. "Go."
There’s a brief pause, then?—
"We’ve got Mancini."
A slow, burning silence stretches between each syllable.
My spine locks.
