Page 175 of Cara

“Yours are still fine?” Sophie asks, her face pressed into my chest.

“Yes.” In truth, I have no idea. I can’t tell any point of pain from another anymore. The effects of what happened in that warehouse are everywhere. In my arms. My feet. My neck.

A warm shower will be a relief.

After I’ve bought a used motorcycle to take us around the mountain, I jot down the address of our new home on the receipt and pass it to the clerk. Despite the definite gaps in our conversation, I somehow get the information I need.

It’s a straight shot through the mountain. Then, a right at a bungalow with a red door. Through the palms, which will spit you out at the other end of the island.

Initially, the roads stretch out before us with gentle, windingbends, but as we venture deeper into the mountains, the terrain begins to slope upward, and the rainforest surrounds us overhead, forming a lush canopy. Tall trees are clustered together, effectively blocking out the sun, letting only occasional rays of light flicker across the pavement when the breeze stirs their leaves.

With Sophie securely between my arms, I follow the path, eager to conquer the more challenging ridges faster for her sake. I glance down occasionally to ensure her eyes stay open.

But they aren’t just open. She’s smiling.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She seems to be soaking it all in—the untamed wilderness around us, the coconuts scattered across the narrow road, the hornbills gracefully gliding beneath the lush tree canopies.

The asphalt disappears as we make a right at the bungalow mentioned by the clerk. Palm trees sway on both sides of the path, and suddenly, there’s salt in the air.

My head has begun to pound due to the thundering in my chest. It’s all overwhelming—the sight of Sophie in paradise, the realization that with every mile I drive, I'm getting closer to my baby girl. Everything important is on this island,almostwithin my reach.

The rainforest stretches endlessly, even as we near the coastline. Our path narrows, the motor bike kicking up dirt and pebbles that coat our boots. The sun is shining from the highest point of the sky, as vast as the ocean it illuminates.

Only I know when we’ve reached the house.

My throat tightens with anticipation as I catch sight of it, sensing Sophie’s tension mirroring my own as I veer off the road. The driveway leads us to a stilted bungalow poised at the water’s edge. Waves crash against those pillars, surging toward the sandy shore. The home seamlessly blends into the wilderness, hidden among a maze of tropical mangroves.

As soon as my boots hit the sand and the rumbling engine quiets, we are completely still, stunned speechless.

Four years ago, we envisioned this moment. We escaped the lives we knew in hopes of reaching it, yet were pulled back by our heels, forced to pay for daring to dream.

Such an insignificant thing to someone else is a goddamn gut punch to me. We fucking bled to get here. I’ve lost count of the scars.

Climbing off the motorcycle, we both stumble a few steps, taking it all in. Sophie makes a slow turn and loses her footing. She’s clutching her side when I catch her waist, looking down to realize that it wasn’t pain that nearly sent her to the ground.

It was this.

Tears spill from her wide eyes. “Xavier…”

We hear a joyous laugh that can only come from a child. Isabella’s high-pitched giggle pierces the air, stopping us in our tracks. As I watch her skip between the tangled roots of the mangroves, her hair shimmering in the golden sunlight, tears well up in my eyes as well.

Bo trails just a few steps behind her. “Izzy, slow down!”

“Daddy!”

Isabella sprints toward us, bridging the distance that felt just out of reach. Before I realize it, I am running to her, my knees sinking into the wet sand as she crashes into me, crying my name.

I couldn’t hold her on that goddamn rooftop. Kiss her. Tell her I'm sorry I won’t be there to watch her grow. I had reconciled myself with that when Dominic Strata told me I’d have to choose between the two loves of my life. There was no way that was going to happen.

Death was the better option.

I can still clearly see Vito Marin tearing into me, my mind warping as it braced for a gruesome end. The holes hidden beneath my bandaged hands ache with remembrance.

I didn’t feel relief when I saw Sophie there. I was goddamn horrified.

She couldn’t have come.