I see him thinking.
“Yes,” he says. “I can make it happen. If you don’t bullshit me. If you don’t protect anyone. If you don’t leave anything out.”
He doesn’t look at me like a savior. He looks at me like a problem he’s willing to carry if I don’t make it worse.
“One lie,” he says quietly, “and I walk. You don’t get to curate your sins, Enzo. You dump the whole body.”
Saul looks at Dario.
Dario flicks his eyes from one of us to the other.
“Allowances made for Dario,” Saul says.
“I’ve killed people.” The words are barely audible. “For Sal. For the family. People who probably didn’t deserve it.”
“I know,” Saul says.
“And you’d just… what? Wave a badge and make blood evaporate?”
“It’s not that simple,” he says carefully. “But yes. For testimony significant enough, sentences can be reduced, charges dropped, identities relocated. You’d have to tell everything. Names, operations, crimes.”
“Whatever it takes. However long it takes. I’ll testify. I’ll burn the whole fucking family down if it means she’s safe. If it means I can be someone worth loving.”
Something in my chest loosens.
“Then we’ll make it happen,” Saul says.
“How?” I move to the bar and pour a drink I don’t taste. I need something to do with my hands that isn’t breaking someone’s throat.
“I make calls. Start the process. It’ll take time, months, probably. Negotiations, depositions, building the case. But it’s possible.” Saul waits for me to look at him. “You’d need a cover identity. A reason to be in Colorado permanently once the trial’s done.”
“What kind of reason?”
“The simplest would be a family connection. Someone already in the program. Someone you’d have a legitimate reason to relocate with.”
My heart sinks. “I don’t have family in…”
“Zoey Carter is a single woman running a bakery in a small Colorado town,” he continues. “If she were to have a husband move in with her, someone the locals haven’t met yet, but whose name she already shares.”
“You want me to marry her.” The room tilts. My hand tightens on the glass until it complains.
Saul’s jaw flexes. Dario goes still.
For one second I think this is where we lose the thread and become what we are.
“I want you to have a cover that makes sense. That protects both of you. Witnesses with family ties to an area are easier to place. They have reasons to stay, support systems, roots.”
“That’s.” I shake my head. “That’s insane.”
“It’s practical.”
“Practical.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re suggesting I marry her for paperwork.”
“I’m suggesting you marry her because you love her and you’re already planning to build a life with her. The paperwork is just details.”
I look at Dario. “You’re okay with this?”
“I’m not in love with labels,” Dario says carefully. “What matters is that she’s safe. That she’s happy. That we all have a place in her life.” He pauses. “A marriage license doesn’t change what we are to each other.”
