Page 77 of Ruthless Scar
“Lorenzo.” I glance up at him as we walk. “You know I would have followed you anyway. If you’d tried to leave me behind.”
His brow furrows.
“This is my intel. My sister. Every night I didn’t sleep hunting for her.” I swallow past the tightness in my throat. “I saw your face earlier. The part where you were calculating whether you could lock me in a room again. So I want to be clear: you couldn’t.”
His mouth presses flat. There and gone. His gaze cuts to the floor, then back to the hallway ahead.
“I know,” he says. Rough. Like the admission costs him.
We stop in front of a door I’ve never seen. Heavy steel. Reinforced frame. A soft red glow from what looks like a biometric panel.
“What is this?”
He turns to face me. Both hands come up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his, and the intensity in his gaze knocks the air out of me.
“Isabella.” He pauses before it. One full beat, like the word costs him something to spend. “Whatever happens tonight,” he murmurs, “I need you to know that you’re the first thing I’ve wanted in longer than I can remember. The only thing.”
My chest aches. “Lorenzo.”
He leans down. His lips press to my forehead, and he stays there. Both hands still cradling my jaw, thumbs at my cheekbones, holding me like something he intends to keep.
“I need you to trust me,” he whispers against my skin.
“I do.” It escapes me before I’ve decided to say it. Truthful. “I trust you.”
Behind me, something hisses. I don’t turn. His mouth is warm against my forehead. His hands are steady on my jaw.
Then his grip shifts. From cradling to pushing.
One firm shove against my shoulders. I stumble backward through the threshold, heel catching on nothing, arms pinwheeling. The room is dark, unfamiliar, and by the time I’ve caught my balance and spun around, the door is already swinging shut.
“Ren—“
Steel meets steel. The lock engages with a soft, final click.
I throw myself at the door before my brain has caught up. Palms flat against cold metal, pounding hard enough to bruise.
“Lorenzo!“ Silence. ”Lorenzo, open the door!“
His voice comes through. Muffled. “I can’t lose you.” The words are rough. Not controlled. I’ve never heard his voice breakbefore. “I can’t go in there worrying about keeping you alive. I can’t do this if I’m thinking about you instead of the mission.” Another breath. Harder. “I’ll come back. As soon as Sofia is safe, I’ll come back for you.”
“Don’t do this.” I slam my palm against the door. “You said we. You said together. Youpromised?—“
“I know.” Barely audible now. “I know what I said.”
“Thenopen the door.“
Footsteps. Moving away from me. Getting softer.
“Lorenzo!“
Nothing.
“Lorenzo, please!“
I keep pounding. Keep screaming. Until my palms sting and my throat burns and I can’t tell if the wetness on my face is sweat or tears. Until I’m certain he’s gone.
Then I stop. Press my forehead against cold steel. Force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
