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“I haven't had much love in my life. My father made sure of that.” Something crosses his face before he pushes it away. “But with you, with us, I've found something I never thought possible.”

In this moment, with his heart laid bare before me, I see the boy he must have been—starved for affection, desperate for connection, learning to hide his wounds behind charm and easy smiles.

“Talon—” I begin, but he shakes his head.

“You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know, in case…” He doesn't finish the thought, doesn't need to.

“In case nothing goes the way we plan,” I finish for him.

I lean forward, pressing my lips to his with a gentleness that softens the desperation that came before. This kiss isn’t born offear or need, but an acknowledgment of what lies between us—fragile yet unshakable.

“I love you, too,” I breathe against his mouth. The words feel simultaneously inadequate and enormous.

Talon pulls me closer, careful of his injured shoulder, until I'm nestled against his chest. His heartbeat thrums beneath my ear, steady and reassuring. We stay like that, suspended in time, neither of us wanting to acknowledge the hours ticking away or our upcoming confrontation with The Collector.

“We should get ready. We have a long day ahead.”

I nod against his chest but make no move to pull away.

“Just a few more minutes,” I reply, needing to hold onto this moment of peace.

His arms tighten around me in silent agreement. We breathe together. I memorize the feeling, his skin against mine, the lingering dampness from our shower, the faint scent of antiseptic from his bandage mingling with his natural musk.

When I finally pull away, it's with reluctance heavy in my limbs. I feel his stare follow me as I move to my closet, pulling out the outfit I've selected for today's confrontation. Simple, practical—black jeans, a henley, and boots with concealed steel toes that Zaire had given me. Nothing that could be used as a weapon against me, nothing The Collector would find suspicious.

"What time is it?"

“Just after seven,” he answers. “We have three hours before we need to leave.”

I pull my damp hair into a tight braid, securing it at the nape of my neck. When I turn back to Talon, he's watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“I'm memorizing you,” he admits. “Just in case.”

“Don't,” I sob, the word catching in my throat. "Don't talk like that.”

Talon rises from the bed, his movement careful as he favors his injured shoulder. He closes the distance between us in two strides.

“I'm not planning on anything happening to either of us. But I've learned that memories are sometimes all we have to hold onto."

I reach up, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips, “We should eat something,” I say finally. “You need your strength.”

Talon nods, pressing a kiss to my palm before stepping back. “I'll make us breakfast. You finish getting ready.”

After he leaves, I stand motionless in the center of my room, listening to the familiar sounds of him moving through the kitchen. It's so mundane, so normal, it makes my chest ache with longing for a life where this is all we have to worry about. Breakfast. Coffee. Each other.

Not whether or not we will make it through today.

VESPER

The Rossi Mansionlooms ahead like a beautiful nightmare, its towering columns and sprawling grounds a gilded cage I once called home. From the passenger seat, I watch it grow larger through the windshield.

"Are you ready?" Talon asks, his voice tight with tension as he navigates the winding drive. His grip on the steering wheel is ironclad, and his injured shoulder remains carefully rigid beneath his tailored suit.

I don't answer immediately. How do you tell someone you're walking willingly into hell? That you calculated the cost of your soul and found it a fair trade for your brother's life?

“As ready as I'll ever be,” I finally reply, my fingers unconsciously tracing the small bump on my upper arm where Alex’s tracker sits beneath my skin. The thought of him stirs a sharp ache in my chest, but I shove it down, lock it away. I can't afford to break—not when Luca’s life hangs in the balance.