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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I sat by Jemma’s hospital bed, her hand firmly in mine. Ever since we’d arrived, I’d refused to let go, which earned me more than one annoyed side-eye from the nurses.

Not that I cared. Whatever happened to her from here on out. I would know, be there, and decide whatever there was to decide, together with her.

A nurse approached, her voice hesitant. “Mr. Salvini, perhaps you’d like to step out while we?—”

“No,” I cut her off, my tone brooking no argument. “I’m staying right here.”

Jemma squeezed my hand and smiled. “It’s okay. I want him here,” she said to the nurse, who narrowed her eyes, annoyed AF, before she looked down at the screen of the device in her hand, probably to hide the rolling of her eyes.

I tensed.

Jemma turned her head to me, raised an eyebrow, and cocked her head. She didn’t even have to say it because her expression said it all.

Chill, dude …was practically written all over her face.

I exhaled and relaxed. This was me, falling into my old patterns, trying to control everything and everyone. But this was Jemma. My wife, my partner. I promised her we were a team. Promised her we made our decisions together.

And that meant at least asking for what she wanted even though every fiber of my being screamed to never, ever let her out of my sight again. “Do you want me to step out for a minute?”

Her grin deepened, and she shook her head. “No, Vincenzo Salvini, I want you right here, but I really appreciate you asking.”

The nurse’s head flew up, and her eyes widened.

And I saw the moment recognition dawned. Her demeanor shifted instantly, becoming deferential. “I’m sorry, Mr. Salvini, Mrs. Salvini, I’ll be right back.” She almost flew out of the room.

Jemma sighed. “I should’ve called you Jo Schmo.”

I grinned at her. “She looked at your file. You could’ve called me Shrek, and she still would’ve known.”

Jemma chuckled. “Shrek, aka Vince the Prince. Though, at the rate you’re going with being all considerate and soft, and considering your habit of shaking your ass for Dom in public, you need a new nickname. How does Baby Girl sound?”

I cocked my head. Who in their right mind would ever call me baby girl even if I did shake my ass for Dom. It was just something I’d developed over the years to tease him. I narrowed my eyes. She’d brought it up before; was she annoyed about that? “Do you?—”

Just when I wanted to ask Jemma, a whole group of doctors entered the room.

I turned my attention to the group of doctors and nurses who were eyeing me warily. “Mr. Salvini, Mrs. Salvini,” one started, and I stopped him by raising my hand.

“I want a full workup,” I demanded. “Blood tests, X-rays, CT scan—everything. She took a fall and was unconscious for a while. And she needs stitches.”

The doctor nodded, scribbling notes. “Certainly, Mr. Salvini. We’ll take excellent care of your wife.”

“See that you do,” I growled, my grip on Jemma’s hand tightened slightly. I couldn’t shake the image of finding her unconscious at the bottom of those wonky-ass stairs. The fear that had gripped me in that moment still lingered, making my chest tight.

Jemma squeezed my hand weakly, drawing my attention. “Vince,” she murmured, “you’re scaring them.”

I leaned in close and cupped her neck. “Let them be scared,” I whispered fiercely. “I’m not taking any chances with your health.”

And that was exactly what happened. I stayed by her side when they examined her; stayed with the techs, separated only by a pane of glass while she got her X-rays and CT scan; and held her hand when they cleaned the wound and put stitches in almost the same location as mine—what a crazy coincidence.

And nobody even blinked an eye at my constant presence by her side .

As time went by, Jemma looked increasingly exhausted.

I turned down the lights and tucked her into bed. “Rest a little. I’ll be just outside making a call.”

I hadn’t been in contact with Hero, who was still in the city, and I needed to know exactly what Zotov was doing before I called him.

Jemma nodded, which told me just how exhausted she really was.

I stepped out of the room, dialed Hero, and waited for the call to connect. I kept my phone pressed to my ear while I pulled out Zotov’s metal card. It had burned a hole in my pocket ever since he’d handed it to me; what if there was a tracking device embedded in it? And why was I only thinking about it now? I needed an analysis on the piece of metal.

I turned it in my hand and stared at it when Hero’s voice cracked through.

“We lost him, Vince,” Hero said, frustration evident in his tone. “Zotov gave our guys the slip.”

I clenched my jaw, anger simmering just beneath the surface, and shoved the piece of metal back into my pocket. If I was totally honest with myself, I wasn’t even surprised. Zotov had superpowers for appearing and disappearing at will, always one step ahead. Only this time, he still had Mira and Bella. “Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “How the hell does he do it?”

“I don’t know, but he’s good,” Hero admitted. “Too good. And he knows things, Vince. Things he shouldn’t know.”

I leaned against the wall, my mind racing. Like the exact moment the women left the property? Or which route the convoy took? Zotov’s uncanny ability to navigate our world, to anticipate our moves—it all pointed to one unsettling conclusion.

“We’ve got a leak,” I said, my voice low. “Maybe more than one.”

“You think someone’s feeding him information?”

“I think we need to be damn careful,” I replied. “Listen, I want you to call La Dimora. Tell them to do a sweep for bugs. Every room, every nook and cranny. If there’s so much as a suspicious speck of dust, I want to know about it.”

“You got it,” Hero said, “I’m on my way there anyway. Peaches told me to pick up one of the guys from IT and bring them.”

I narrowed my eyes. “One of the IT guys?”

“Yes, don’t know why, but the guy looks a little nervous.”

“Did you cuff him?”

I could almost hear the seconds ticking by in the silence that followed for Hero’s brain to connect the dots.

If Peaches wanted someone brought to them, how likely was it that they were the one who executed the hack from the inside?

The sudden missing background noise from the call made me look at my screen. No, still connected. I listened, and then suddenly, Hero was back.

“Okay,” he said.

I suppressed my chuckle.

“What about you? How’s Jemma? ”

I glanced back at her room, my chest tightening. “She’s resting. They’re running tests. Her X-rays and CT scan came back clear, but we’re not leaving here until I know she’s okay.”

“Understood. I’ll keep you posted on the sweep.”

I ended the call, my mind churning with possibilities. Zotov was playing a game, and I was tired of feeling like a sucker, always five steps behind. It was time to change the rules.

I paced back and entered the room again.

One look at Jemma in that bed and my mind raced with thoughts of how close I’d come to losing her, of Bella and Mira still in his hands. Though, somehow, the knowledge of how much care Zotov took in an effort to keep everyone unharmed made me feel slightly better.

Silver linings.

And yet. I would never forget the noise of Jemma’s impact on the floor when she tumbled down those stairs. I had been just outside that room when it happened, and it took me a while to get to her.

The image of her unconscious body at the bottom of those stairs would haunt me for a long time. My hands clenched into fists, anger and fear warring inside me.

I was almost to the bed when the door burst open, startling me from my dark reverie.

I turned and blocked the doorway in one swift movement, shielding her from any potential harm.

Craig Donnelly looked in, his face a storm of emotions.

He gave me a death stare, then sidestepped me and stared at Jemma. “You okay, Button? ”

Jemma sat up. “Yes, Dad. I’m perfectly fine—just a little dinged up.”

“Then you’re coming home with me. Right now,” he said, the fury clearly noticeable in his voice.

Without hesitation, I positioned myself between Jemma’s bed and her father. My body tensed, ready for whatever came next.

I felt Jemma shift behind me, but I kept my eyes locked on Donnelly. “No,” I said, my voice low and firm. “She’s staying right here.”

Craig’s face reddened, but before he could explode, Jemma’s voice rang out clear and strong.

“Dad, Vince, stop—both of you.” She sighed. “I decide about my life, not you, and right now, I’m staying with Vince. This is where I belong, Dad.”

I felt a surge of pride and warmth wash over me. Without taking my eyes off Craig, I reached back and took Jemma’s hand in mine. We were united, a team against whatever the world threw at us.

Craig’s anger seemed to deflate, replaced by a look of resignation. He glanced between us, then at our joined hands. “Is this really what you want, Button? After what happened?”

I turned around and caught Jemma’s nod.

“Staying by his side means being in constant danger,” Donnelly said.

Jemma smiled. “I know, but we’re a team now. In good times and in bad times.”

“I need to make a few calls,” Donnelly said and glared at me, then turned and left without another word .

I turned and watched him leave. He probably needed to call off whatever he’d planned to bring Jemma home. I’d expected more of a fight, but maybe the conviction in her voice and her eyes was enough to make him realize there was no chance she was coming with him.

As the door closed behind him, I turned back to face Jemma. Our eyes met, and in that moment of quiet understanding, I knew we could face anything together.

As a team.

“Did you talk to Zotov?” she asked.

I clenched my jaw and shook my head. I didn’t want to make this call, but I knew I had no choice. With a heavy sigh, I pulled out the metal business card and my phone and dialed Zotov’s number.

The line rang once, twice, before he answered with his annoyingly smooth voice. “I was expecting your call a lot sooner.”

I gritted my teeth, swallowing my pride. “Cut the bullshit, Zotov. What do you want?”

“Straight to business, I see. Very well?—”

Suddenly, a shrill alarm pierced the air, cutting through our conversation. The fire alarm. What the hell?

I turned around just as the line went dead. He’d hung up. What the fuck?

Confusion and frustration warred within me as Jemma jumped out of her bed, and my heart nearly stopped. “Wait, you shouldn’t?—”

But to my surprise, and with her eyes blazing with a fierce intensity, she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door and out of the room.

And into utter chaos.

Nurses were ushering patients into the hallway, and the acrid smell of smoke was starting to fill the air—so this wasn’t a drill?

Jemma grasped my hand firmly. “Let’s go. Let’s get out of here,” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos erupting around us as she pulled me to the staircase.

In that instant, Dom’s words about true love echoed in my mind. I’d laughed at his explanation. But looking at Jemma now, her strength and resolve shining through even in this dire situation, her hand squeezing mine, I felt something shift inside me.

“True love is when there’s a fire alarm, and instead of rescuing themselves, they grab your hand and pull you along with them.”

A profound sense of certainty washed over me. Jemma wasn’t just my wife on paper—she was my perfect match, the love of my life, my equal in every way that mattered. She had my back—always. And I had hers.

“How about a piggyback ride?” I asked, squatted down in front of her, and she jumped onto my back without hesitation.

We moved down the stairs together and navigated the panicked staff and patients with an ease and synchronicity that surprised me, given the short time we’d known each other. We didn’t even need words—as if we’d been doing this dance for years, not mere days.

Together, we were unstoppable .

With Jemma by my side—or on my back, I could face any challenge that came our way. Zotov, the threats, the betrayals, the constant danger of our world—none of it seemed insurmountable anymore.

As we burst through the hospital doors into the cool night air, I felt Jemma’s arms tighten around my neck. The chaos of the evacuation swirled around us, but at that moment, all I could focus on was her warm breath against my skin and the solid weight of her body against mine.

I gently lowered her to the ground but couldn’t bring myself to let go completely. My arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against me.

“Jemma,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. I cupped her face in my hands, drinking in every detail of her features. The fierce determination in her eyes, the slight furrow of concern between her brows, the way her lips parted slightly as she looked up at me—in that moment, the depth of my feelings of love for this woman was almost overwhelming.

She’d turned out to be completely different than I’d anticipated. Thank the Lord I realized that before I forced her to marry Matt. Because right this minute, the mere thought of a life without her was unimaginable.

I pulled her closer, cupped her cheeks, and rested my forehead against hers. “I love you,” I whispered, the words feeling inadequate to express the tsunami of emotion crashing through me. “I love you so damn much.”

Jemma’s hands came up to cover mine, her touch grounding me. “I love you, too,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving mine.

We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, and the world around us faded into background noise. Sirens wailed, people shouted, but all I could feel was Jemma’s steady breathing and the beating of my own heart.

Until Craig Donnelly was suddenly there, and next to him, Hawk and Dom. “Let’s go, lovebirds,” Dom said and slapped my ass.

I glared at him, then focused back on my beautiful wife.

And in that moment, I made a silent vow, one way more binding than any wedding ceremony or promise could ever be.

I would never let her go again. Whatever challenges we faced, whatever enemies came for us, we would face them together.

Always.