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And it’s the kind of silence that could set fire to everything.
Her lashes lower, casting shadows across her cheeks, and I swear I could stay like this forever. Just looking at her.
She’s got a cut on her lip, the faintest trace of blood, and it makes my stomach turn with guilt. With uncontrolled anger.With something hot and ancient that makes me want to raze the whole world just to keep her untouched.
“I almost didn’t find you,” I say, voice low. Shaky.
Maxine looks up at me, steady now. Always steady when I’m the one unraveling.
“But you did,” she says.
Barely a whisper, but it slices through me.
“I was supposed to go home. I was exhausted, filthy. My head was a mess. I just... checked. Just to make sure. Just to see if you were okay. And when I saw your phone?—”
I stop. The words strangle halfway up my throat.
She’s watching me like she’s trying to see inside my soul. Like she’s peeling me apart without ever moving a muscle.
There’s a pause. It’s full of all the words we refuse to say.
Then she shifts forward, just a breath, just enough. Her gaze flicks down to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and I feel it—like a live wire stretched between us.
“Saxon.” She says my name in a way that tells me she’s afraid of the words about to leave her mouth. “This can’t happen.”
My jaw tightens. I know exactly what she means.Wecan’t happen. Because I wear a badge, and she bears the blood of a family I’ve been trying to tear apart one piece at a time. Because her last name may not be Gatti or Accardi or Ironside, but her loyaltyis. And disloyalty gets people killed.
She shifts again. A subtle movement. Our foreheads finally whisper against each other, a fragile touch pulling us together.
“Brando would slit your throat if he saw you here,” she murmurs, voice trembling. “And Mia... I can't hurt her. She’s all I have.”
“I know.”
“I have a duty to her, Saxon. Even if I hate the life she’s tied to. Even if I don’t want it to be mine.”
My fingers curl against her jaw, gently. She leans into the touch like she doesn’t care if it ruins us both.
“Tonight, I’m not asking for forever,” I whisper. “Just this moment.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know that what I felt touching you in Albania was real... that we were real.”
And then, she kisses me. No, I kiss her. Or maybe we fall into it together, mouths meeting like a secret that’s been begging to be told. Her lips are soft but hungry, like she’s been starving and I’m the first taste of something tangible.
Her hands slide into my hair, tugging, grounding. My bloodied knuckles curve behind her neck as I pull her closer, swallowing the small sound she makes against my mouth. The world narrows to this—her breath, her heat, the way she trembles under my touch and melts into the ruin of me.
It’s not gentle or sweet.
It’s freedom—wild and stolen and wrong in all the right ways. The kiss is fire meeting gasoline, and we burn.We burn.It’s everything it was when we met in that castle and more. The same soft lips, the feelings that are ripped out of me as though my soul is being pulled out of my body. She’s everything and more. So much more.
I kiss her like I’ll never get to again. Because I might not. Because she’s mafia. And I’m the Fed who’s supposed to bring her family down. Because no matter how many times I save her, this world will keep finding ways to rip us apart. But right now? She’s in my arms. Her lips are on mine. And I am alive.
Her lips are stillwarm against mine when she pulls away.
Slow. Hesitant. Like it physically hurts her to break themoment. Like she’s peeling herself out of a dream she’s not ready to wake up from. Her hands are still tangled in my shirt, but she’s not pulling me closer anymore. She’s pushing.
“Max...” I breathe, forehead resting against hers.