Page 197 of Dante
Focus, I tell myself.Remember the plan.
The plan. Right.
It's a good plan. Dante explained every piece of it, his voice calm and measured while my world collapsed around me. He accounted for variables. Timing. Contingencies.
But plans go wrong.
Plans go wrong all the time.
Dante finishes checking his phone and looks at me. He crosses the room and crouches in front of me, his hands covering mine where they're still pressed between my knees.
"Hey." His voice is low. Gentle. "Look at me."
I do. His eyes are dark in the dim light, but I can see the steadiness in them. The certainty. He's not afraid.
Or maybe he is, and he's just better at hiding it than I am.
"You remember what to do?" he asks.
I nod. My throat feels too tight for words.
"Marina. I need you to trust me."
"I do." The words come out broken. Cracked down the middle. "I do trust you. I just?—"
Dante releases my hands and cups my face instead. His palms are warm against my cheeks. Rough with calluses. I lean into the touch without meaning to.
"I'm coming back," he says.
"You don't know that."
"I do." His jaw tightens. "Because I have something to come back to now."
My eyes burn. I blink rapidly, refusing to cry. Not now. Not when he needs me to be strong.
"Dante—"
He kisses me.
When he pulls back, we're both breathing hard.
"You need to do exactly what we talked about," he says. His forehead rests against mine. "Okay?"
"Okay." My voice is barely a whisper.
"Say it again."
"Okay." Stronger this time. Steadier. "I'll do it. Fifteen minutes."
He nods. Presses one more kiss to my forehead and then he's standing. Moving toward the door. His phone buzzes in his pocket.
"Uber's here," he says.
The absurdity of it hits me. An Uber. He's taking anUberto confront a cartel leader. Like he's heading to the airport. Like this is just another Tuesday night.
I want to laugh. I want to scream. I want to grab him and drag him back to the bed and refuse to let him leave.
Instead, I stand. My legs feel unsteady, but they hold.
