"It's better than sitting around waiting to be sacrificed."
"Is it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're about to get yourself killed for no good reason."
"Maybe that would be easier for everyone."
"Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare say that."
Something in my tone must get through to her because she looks at me—really looks at me—for the first time since this chase started.
"You think I want this?" I continue, my voice rougher than I intended. "You think I want to watch you throw yourself off buildings and hotwire cars in parking garages? You think any of this is easy for me?"
"It's your job," she says, but there's less conviction in her voice.
"Fuck the job." The words are out before I can stop them. "This stopped being just about the job, and you know it."
She stares at me, lips slightly parted, and I can see her processing what I just said. The admission hangs between us.
"Dante—"
"Turn off the car, Sofia." I reach over and take her hand, ignoring the way she tenses at the contact. "We'll figure something out together."
She doesn't pull away, but she doesn't relax either. Her hand remains rigid in mine, and when she looks at me, there's something hard in her green eyes.
"Together?" she repeats, and there's an edge to her voice that sets off alarm bells in my head. "Like how we've been 'together'this whole time? With you watching my every move, stopping every escape attempt, making sure I stay right where Vito wants me?"
"Sofia—"
"No." She yanks her hand away from mine. "Don't you dare try to make this sound like we're partners in this. You're my jailer, Dante. A very attractive, occasionally charming jailer, but still a jailer."
The words sting more than they should. "That's not?—"
"Isn't it?" She turns in the driver's seat to face me fully, and the look in her eyes is like ice. "When was the last time you let me make a decision for myself? When was the last time you actually gave a damn about what I wanted instead of what Vito ordered you to do?"
"I just chased you across four fucking rooftops?—"
"To bring me back!" she snaps. "To drag me back to my cage like a good little soldier. Don't act like that was about saving me, Dante. That was about your job."
"You could have been killed?—"
"And maybe that would have been my choice to make!"
The words hang in the air between us, loaded with fury and desperation and something that feels like a challenge. She's breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and I can see her hands shaking with adrenaline and anger.
"You don't mean that," I say quietly.
"Don't I?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You want to know what I heard in that meeting, Dante? I heard Vito agreeing that I'm expendable. I heard him talking about me like I'm a problem to be solved rather than a person with her own wants and needs. And now you're sitting here telling me we're in this together, when you've spent the last week making sure I can't even go to the bathroom without an escort."
I open my mouth to argue, but she's not done.
"So don't you dare pretend this is about partnership. Don't pretend you see me as anything other than a job to be completed. Because if you really gave a damn about what I wanted, you'd get out of this car and let me drive away."
The challenge is clear in her voice, in the way she's looking at me. She's daring me to prove her wrong, to choose her over my duty to Vito.
And we both know I can't do that.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we can't say, everything we both know is true. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, can feel the weight of her stare as she waits for me to prove her point.
When I don't move to get out of the car, something in her expression hardens.
