Page 119 of The Wrong Man

He’s coming. Hold on.

I read it three times, four times, five times, until the words blur through the tears I didn’t realize I was crying.

He’s coming.

Dante is coming for me.

I sink down onto the bed, my legs suddenly unable to hold me. All those hours of trying to stay strong, trying to be brave, trying not to fall apart. And now five words on a scrap of paper have undone me completely.

He didn’t give up. He didn’t decide I was more trouble than I was worth. He didn’t walk away and let Declan have me.

He’s coming.

I don’t know how he found out where I am. I don’t know who sent this message or how they got it to me. I don’t know anything except that somewhere out there, Dante is working to bring me home.

Hope blooms in my chest, warm and fierce and almost painful. I’ve been trying so hard not to hope, not to believe, not to set myself up for disappointment. But this piece of paper changes everything.

I picture Dante’s face. The way he looked at me that night, when we were tangled together in his bed. The almost-smile he gets when I’m being ridiculous. The way his hands shake when he touches me, like he can’t quite believe I’m real.

He loves me. I know that now, even if neither of us has said the words. And love doesn’t give up. Love doesn’t walk away.

Love comes for you, even when the odds are impossible.

I press the note to my chest, feeling the crinkle of paper against my skin. Then, carefully, I tear it into tiny pieces and shove them down in between the gaps in the floorboards. No evidence. Nothing for Declan to find if he decides to search my room.

But the words are burned into my memory now. A promise. A lifeline.

He’s coming. Hold on.

I can do that. I’ve held on this long, through torture and illness and falling in love with someone impossible. I can hold on a little longer.

I think about the gun on the mantlepiece. The closet with the slatted doors. The guard rotations and the layout of the house and every piece of information I’ve been hoarding like treasure.

When Dante comes, I’m going to be ready. I’m going to help, somehow. I’m not going to be the helpless victim waiting to be rescued.

I’m stronger than that now. Stronger than Declan knows. Stronger than I ever gave myself credit for.

The night feels different now. Less suffocating. Less hopeless.

I curl up on the bed and close my eyes, and for the first time since Declan took me, I fall asleep with something other than fear in my heart.

He’s coming.

And when he gets here, we’re going to make Declan regret ever touching me.

I fall asleep with the words echoing in my mind like a prayer.

He’s coming. Hold on.

I can hold on. I will hold on.

For Dante. For myself. For the life we might still have together, if we’re brave enough to reach for it.

Chapter thirty-five

Dante

Moira’s sitting room has been transformed into a war room.