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Not submission, not defeat, but understanding.

The recognition that what exists between us transcends the past.

“Please,” she begs, her forehead resting against our joined hands. “Please don’t ever get in front of a bullet again. Please don’t leave me. I can’t—I won’t survive losing you.”

The tears are falling freely now, hot against my skin, and each one feels like absolution. Like forgiveness for every lie I told.

“I was wrong,” she whispers into the silence. “I was wrong about everything.”

I feel something shift inside me, a loosening of tension. My fingers twitch, reaching for hers with what little regained strength I have.

“I knew you’d come back to me,dolcezza.”

Her breath catches. Her head snaps up, hazel eyes wide with surprise.

“Marco?” Her voice is barely audible.

I meet her gaze, letting her see the fire that burns as bright as ever. The love that nearly got me killed and would again, without hesitation, if it meant keeping her safe.

“There was never a world where I could live without you,” I tell her, my voice rough with emotion. “And apparently, there’s never a world where you can live without me, either.”

Relief crashes over her features, followed immediately by something that looks like anger. “You bastard. You beautiful, impossible bastard.”

And then she’s leaning over me, her lips finding mine in a kiss that’s everything our previous kisses weren’t—gentle, tentative, full of love. Her mouth is soft and warm, tasting faintly of the coffee as she brushes against mine, ever so delicate as though a kiss might be the death of me.

I pull back and press my nose against hers, lose myself in those beautiful eyes, filled to the brim with tears. She flutters her eyes close, and I brush against her lips again, sliding my tongue against her mouth.

She opens for me with a soft mewl that sets me on fire. Softly, I reach for her cheek, and she leans into my hand, my thumb running lines along her jaw.

She inches deeper into the bed. I feel her kick off her shoes and then, she has one hand clenching my shirt as a tether, while her other nestles behind my head.

When she runs her fingers down my scalp, a tingling thrill shoots down my spine. I groan and slide my tongue along the upper ridges of her mouth.

“Aria…”

Perhaps that was a mistake, because she pulls back instantly. Her lips are tender, her eyes glazed over, her skin flushed.

She wants me. But she stopped.

“What’s going on through that beautiful little head of yours?” I ask, caressing her cheek.

“I love you,” she whispers.

The words settle into my chest like healing balm, easing aches I didn’t know I carried.

“I love you, too,” I whisper, my hands tightening at her waist. “But right now… I need you to show me I still matter.”

She pulls back slightly, concern flickering in her eyes. “Marco, you’re not?—”

“I’m not dying,” I interrupt. “I need you, Aria. I need to feel alive again. I need to feel you. For my sanity, please.”

She studies my face for a long moment, then moves carefully onto the bed beside me, her weight barely registering as she settles against my uninjured side.

“Are you sure?” she asks, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on my chest, avoiding the bandages.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

She leans up to kiss me again, and this time, there’s heat beneath the tenderness. She teases my lower lip with her teeth. The kiss deepens gradually, building slowly like a fire catching kindling. I reach up, tugging the pins free from her hair, and it tumbles down in soft waves, spilling over her shoulders like a curtain of silk.