Page 46 of The Prizes We Win
Without a word, Dante and Luca wrap me in their arms. I let the feel of their warm bodies center me. And a moment later I feel another figure embrace me. I don’t even have to look to know it’s Sebastian. I canfeelit.
The four of us stand there for what feels like hours, all while each of them take turns peppering the top of my head with soft kisses. Eventually, though, one of them breaks our embrace and the others follow.
I look around at their heartbroken faces, and I wish more than anything I could take away their pain, just as I know they would mine. But until we have him, until we have our missing piece back where he belongs, the pain we’re feeling will be ever-present. Like when you’re drowning and the pain in your chest is so deep and you know that one simple breath will save you from the pain, but no matter how hard you try you can’t take it. You just sink deeper and deeper until everything goes black.
Until the pain is the only thing you feel.
But despite the pain, we have to keep fighting. We have to keep fighting for breath. Because if Enzo can’t count on us to fight for him, then all of this, everything I have done up until this very moment, will have been for nothing.
I am nothing without them.
They are now a part of me.
And a part of me has now been ripped away.
I will never stop fighting until I get it back.
“Anything?” I ask.
Luca pulls a gun out of the waistband of his pants. “Found his gun in the tunnel along with his earpiece.”
“Where did the tunnel even go?”
Dante scrubs his hand over his face. “About two blocks away. We came out of the back room of a bakery.”
“What was it called?” Sebastian asks them eagerly.
“Pavlova Pastries, I think,” Dante replies before Sebastian practically sprints back to his computer.
Luca looks at me in concern. “This is the first time he’s even looked away from the screen since we got here.”
“I figured as much,” Luca replies with an exhausted sigh.
The three of us head toward the table, but I stop in my tracks when I see a familiar box sitting on it. “Wh—where did that come from?”
“Oh,” Mac says, tapping the top of it. Harper brings a pot of coffee out to the table, along with a handful of mugs. Mac kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mo Grá.” Refocusing his attention on me, he adds, “I found this in a room upstairs. All the letters inside are addressed to you.”
Sebastian, Dante, and Luca look over at me before Luca asks, “Are those—”
“Yeah,” I answer softly.
“What are they?” Harper asks.
“They’re letters my dad has written me since he went to prison. I’ve never opened a single one. They broke into my house and took them. I have no idea why.”
“Must have been the room your dad was staying in since he got out,” Ronan adds.
I don’t say a word as I walk over to the box and remove the lid.
“Love, you don’t have to do this right now.”
My eyes don’t leave the box. “Yes, I do.”
Slowly, I grab the first letter at the top. And just like they’ve done since he started sending me these damn things, the moment my fingertips touch the paper, I can feel my breathing grow shallow and the edges of my vision darken.
“Josephine…” Luca says, running his hand down my back.
His voice saying my name causes me to pause. And then I remember how I felt when he had me in that car. How I felt when I sat across the table from him in that interrogation room.
