"And until then?"
"Until then, we keep moving. Stay ahead of anyone who might be looking for us." I tilt her chin up so I can see her face. "Are you sure about this, Sofia? Really sure? Because once we run, there's no going back. Ever."
"I'm sure." There's no hesitation in her voice. "I'd rather have one day of freedom with you than a lifetime of being someone else's property."
"It won't be easy. We'll have to be careful, smart. We won't be able to contact our families, won't be able to?—"
"Dante." She presses a finger to my lips. "I'm sure. About you, about us, about leaving all of this behind. Are you?"
I think about Vito, about the man who saved me from the streets and gave me purpose. About the family that's been my whole world for fifteen years. About the life I'm about to throw away for the woman in my arms.
"I've never been more sure of anything," I tell her, and it's the truth.
She smiles then, brilliant and beautiful, and kisses me with a sweetness that makes my chest ache.
"So what's the plan?" she asks against my lips.
"We leave before dawn. Take back roads, avoid the highways. I have a safe house about six hours from here where we can lay low for a few days while I make arrangements."
"And then?"
"Then we disappear. New names, new lives, new everything. Just you and me."
"Just you and me," she repeats, like she's testing the words.
"Having second thoughts?"
"No." She settles more firmly against me. "I'm thinking about what name I want to pick. Something completely different from Sofia Gallo."
"You don't have to decide tonight."
"I know. But I want to. I want to choose who I become next." She looks up at me. "What about you? Who do you want to be when you're not Dante Mancini anymore?"
It's a good question. For fifteen years, I've been Vito's enforcer, the family's weapon. Before that, I was just a scared kid on the streets. I've never really thought about who I might be if I got to choose.
"I don't know," I admit. "But I know I want to be whatever you need me to be."
"I need you to be you. Just you, without all the rest of it. Without the family and the orders and the violence. Just Dante."
"I don't know if I know how to be just Dante."
"Then we'll figure it out together."
The storm outside has finally quieted, leaving just the sound of our breathing and the steady rhythm of rain against the windows. Sofia's breathing is getting slower, heavier, and I can feel her starting to drift off.
"Sleep," I murmur against her hair. "I'll keep watch."
"You need to sleep too."
"I will. Just want to make sure we're safe first."
"We are safe. We're together."
And somehow, despite everything—despite the danger we're in, despite the lives we're about to leave behind, despite the uncertainty ahead—I believe her.
We are safe. Because we're together.
I hold her close as she drifts off to sleep, her breathing evening out, her body relaxing completely against mine. And for the first time in years, I let myself imagine a future that doesn't involve violence or orders or loyalty to anyone but the woman in my arms.
