Page 117 of The Freedom in Captivity

As he finishes dressing, his angle, the lighting, all of it hits precisely right.

“On your ribs. Is that a—”

“A sun?” He twists, smirking, until I’m able to see the tattoo in better light.

A galaxy almost. Starts and constellations swirling together on his ribs, the colours muted with age but brighter than some of his other tattoos, which makes me wonder how I’ve never noticed it before. He was always so good at angling himself just the right way I suppose, and never lifting his arm.

Amidst the stars, a moon. Brighter than the rest of the tattoo, and directly across from it, a sun, its deep colours bold.

“Flynn…this whole time.”

He drops to a knee in front of me and hauls me to his chest, nearly bending me backwards in his jerky movements. “I’ve told you, you’ve never been a question for me, Rozelyn. Even when I hated you, I loved you, and I could never get you out of my mind. You’re it for me and that’s all there is to it.”

I reach for his side, needing to stroke over the ink as I reply, “You freed me, Flynn. Then and now, and I’m forever grateful.”

With a final, scorching kiss, he helps me dress and then leads me from the basement. The second we reach the top, we’re stopped by a man leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed, glare centering right on us.

“Being creepy, Corsetti, and listening in?” Harassing Nico might not be the smartest plan but who hangs outside of a basement door?

He rolls his eyes from me to Flynn and speaks directly to him, ignoring my comment. “When you’ve cleaned up, come see me. We need to talk about,” he flicks his hand in our direction, “whatever this is.”

.

Flynn

Thirty minutes later, we’re back in Nico’s office and I’m struck with major déjà vu. Similar to when we were caught in her bedroom, I’m standing while Rozelyn’s seated across from Nico, who sits behind his desk, his gaze flicking between us, a glass of liquor in his hands, his fingers drumming rhythmically along the edge.

What Nico will tell us is completely a guess. He might demand me to move out of the mansion if I choose Rozelyn. That’ll be an easy agreement. He might kick me out of the organization because of her. That’ll be—I don’t know what that’ll be. Choosing between my heart and my life is an impossible feat no one should need to go through.

I expected this though. The turmoil of choice. I hadn’t expected Nico to demand it today. I’ve barely gotten Rozelyn back in my life and now I might have it ripped apart.

Nico starts with a heavy huff, his glare directed at Rozelyn. “I don’t like you.”

Straight to it. Blatant and factual.

Rozelyn lifts her chin, meeting his stare head-on. “Yeah, well, you’re not my favourite either, buddy.”

I approach her chair, stroking over the back of her neck in a gentle but warning manner. She needs to cool the attitude before Nico decides to be done with both of us. His last command was for her to leave the city, and she defied that by returning to me.

Nico’s eyes narrow where my hand touches her skin, but I don’t move away. “I don’t like you,” he repeats, “because you have my enforcer changing. Before you, he was focused. Loyal. Since you’ve come into his life again, he’s hesitated in doing his job, betrayed orders, and walked in on a very important meeting. All behaviours unlike him.”

Though he’s speaking to her and not me, every mark against me is a slice to my heart. When listed, I really fucked up.

Beneath my hands, her shoulders move up and down, reminding me of why I did every item on the list—for her.

“Maybe you got the boring version of him,” Rozelyn counters with a shrug. “And I returned the old version.”

Nico presses his lips together and I know him well enough to catch the hint of a smirk. Barely there. Nothing Rozelyn would notice, but he’s amused by her, which is a positive sign.

“Perhaps,” he replies dryly. “Nonetheless, you’re a pain in my ass, and allowing you into my home is quite chaotic, considering what your family has done to mine. But—” He pauses, glancing at me, and then the glass of amber in his grip. “But I respect you, Rozelyn.”

Respect from the Corsetti underboss is always earned, never given.

“What?”

Dragging the glass closer, he stares into it as he talks. “You’re tough as nails, and I understand why you did what you had. The word victim is a very strong term with many connotations, each one understood differently by every individual. I’m telling you this so you see I don’t pity you or think you less in any means. You were a victim, but in my books, victims are the strongest there are. Certainly more than their oppressor because it’s the victims who have to survive their actions and still act okay after it all.”

He lifts his eyes from his drink, abandoning it altogether to lean back, lightly rocking on the chair. A look of calculating ease that has my nerves sharpening.

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