Page 113 of Fire and Silk

I grit my teeth and keep at it.

My blood smears over the fibers. The blade cuts again, just above my thumb, but I hold it tighter.

The rope starts to loosen.

A few strands tear. Then more. I lean in with all my weight and give one last pull—and the knot finally gives.

His arms drop forward.

I gasp in relief and drop the blade.

He turns fast and pulls me into him. His arms wrap around me, strong despite the bruises. I fold against his chest, sobbing, pressing my face into his collar, breathing him in.

He kisses my temple, my cheek, my hair. His mouth doesn’t stop moving. He holds me as if afraid I’ll disappear again.

And I know—right here, right now—I can’t lose him. I can’t survive that.

His hand cups the back of my neck, his forehead resting against mine.

“I think they’re taking you to the border,” he says, voice low, breath catching slightly.

I freeze.

“What?” My voice breaks. “What do you mean the border?”

Severo’s arms tighten slightly.

“If Salvatri is the one behind this, he’s not taking you across town,” he says, tone flat. “He’s taking you out of the country. Italy, probably. Staying in Melbourne after touching a Dantès would be suicide.”

The words land like a weight in my chest.

My back goes stiff. “Matteo is in on it too.”

He nods .

My mouth dries. “Then your siblings—”

“Likely part of it,” he says, steady.

I turn to him fully, knees shifting against the metal floor. “How do you know?”

He glances toward the walls of the truck, listening for a moment to the engine before looking back at me.

“Matteo wouldn’t turn unless there was power behind the offer. Salvatri couldn’t pull him alone. But if Maksim and Mina are behind this—if they promised him something bigger—it fits. No one else wants us gone more than they do.”

My throat tightens. I press my hand to my chest, trying to catch my breath.

He watches me carefully, then adds, quiet but clear, “They’ll kill me, Lira. That’s the plan. Take you out of the picturewith me out of the way. Make you disappear under the excuse of protection or grief.”

I grip the front of his shirt.

Tears pool in my eyes again. “What do we do?”

He lifts my chin with his thumb, guiding my face to his.

“Follow my lead,” he says. “No matter what happens.”

I nod. The movement is small, but it’s all I can manage.