Page 48 of Forbidden Sins

“In the last three years,” he repeats softly, “Any woman I’ve ever touched was only because I couldn’t have the one woman I really wanted. You .”

He breathes the last word, his gaze flicking down to my lips, hunger so evident in his eyes that I start to rise up on my tiptoes. That need burns through both of us for a moment before Sebastian takes a quick step back, regret flickering in his expression.

“We don’t have time for this right now,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over my lower lip before stepping back a little more, as if he’s having to physically tug himself away from me. “We need to get out of here.”

He turns to head down the hall, but as he does, I notice that he’s favoring his right side. “Sebastian, you’re hurt.”

He glances back at me, wincing slightly as he tries to force a smile. “I’m just sore. I’m not entirely healed up from?—”

When he takes another step and winces, I move toward him quickly, reaching to grab his arm. “Sebastian, let me help.”

“We don’t have time for this—” He tries to shake me off, but I’m not going to go so easily.

“Let me see,” I insist, as we make our way down the hall to the small bathroom. My arm accidentally brushes against his side, and he flinches. “Sebastian, please.”

For a moment, I think he'll refuse, but then he sighs and begins unbuttoning his shirt. It’s hard not to notice the taut skin and tanned muscle that every button reveals, but marring all of that are the bruises and cuts that still haven’t fully healed from the beating my father gave him.

I try not to stare at all of it as he shrugs off the shirt, sinking heavily down onto the edge of the tub. “There’s a first-aid kit under the sink,” he says wearily, and I can hear the tiredness in his voice, exhaustion that even I know we don’t have time for. “If you can grab it.”

I immediately go to the sink, quickly finding the kit that he’s talking about. I retrieve it, coming to sit next to him as I open it up and glance at the cuts that reopened during the run for the car, now weeping blood.

My hands shake slightly as I tear open an alcohol pad, knowing how much this is going to hurt him all over again. It tears me apart.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, as I reach out to run the pad over one of the cuts. The muscle around it twitches, and his skin shudders, his body recoiling from the pain. “This is all my fault.”

“No.” Sebastian reaches out, tipping up my chin so that I’m forced to look at him. “None of this is your fault, Estella. You didn’t choose to be forced into this marriage. You didn’t choose to marry a man as vile as Vito Bianchi.”

“I chose to keep pushing, out there in the gardens, when you kissed me for the first time.” I swipe the alcohol pad over his cut again before reaching for a bandage, wishing more than anything that I could take the pain for him instead.

“And I could have walked away.” Sebastian’s thumb brushes over my lip.

“I would endure a hundred beatings, little dove, to get to kiss you even once. I’d risk everything for you, princess.

Pain, death, none of that matters if it means keeping you safe.

If it means having any part of you that you’ll give me, for as long as I can have it.

A minute, a second, an hour, a day…” He breathes in slowly as I reach to clean another open cut.

“I’m afraid it’s too much to think of what price I’d have to pay for a lifetime. ”

My heart leaps in my chest at that, and I look up at him sharply, startled. “Would you want that?” I whisper, and Sebastian gives me a soft, sad smile.

“Let’s try to live through tomorrow, and then we’ll think about it.”

His gaze, as it holds mine, is intense. I bite my lip, reaching for another bandage. “I don’t want to stay here tonight,” I admit. “Not where there’s been other?—”

“We’re not going to,” Sebastian promises. “We need to get out of here sooner rather than later, actually. They’ll check my known addresses. Go see what you can find in the bedroom to wear. We need to move.”

I nod, swallowing hard as a mixture of fear and anticipation ripples through me.

I’m terrified of what comes next, of what my father and Vito will do—but at the same time, a part of my mind is entirely fixated on the fact that Sebastian and I will be alone together tonight.

That we might spend more than one night together, depending on how long we can manage to run for.

In the back of my head, I can’t help but feel that us getting caught is an inevitability. That we won’t be able to run forever, and we’ll have to face the consequences eventually. But for tonight…

I go to his room as instructed, trying not to stare at the bed as I hurry over to a plain wooden dresser along one wall, a TV resting on top of it.

I find a pair of sweatpants and a plain black T-shirt, as well as a hoodie that I grab despite the fact that it’s summer, in case I need to try to hide my face.

It’s all too big, but I roll up the ankles of the sweatpants, shoving my feet into a pair of slides that I find.

I leave the ruined dress draped over a chair, a souvenir of a night that I want to forget—at least the first part of it.

When I return to the living room, Sebastian has changed too, into similar dark clothes. He's packing the duffel bag with essentials—cash, a laptop, changes of clothes, what looks like a burner phone, and a gun that he tucks into his waistband.

"Ready?" he asks, zipping the bag closed.

"Where are we going now?"

"Hotel for tonight. Somewhere they won't expect." He checks his watch. "We need to ditch my car too. It's registered in my name."

The reality of our situation hits me anew. "We're really doing this. Running."

Sebastian pauses, looking at me intently. "It's not too late, Estella. I can take you back. Tell them I forced you to come with me. You could?—"

"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "I'm not going back. Not to Vito. Not ever."

Relief flashes across his face before he nods. "Then let's go."

We leave the apartment the same way we came, cautious and alert. In the garage, Sebastian leads me to a different car—his own, I assume—and we drive out into the night.

"We need to get rid of this car," he says after we've been driving for about twenty minutes. "I know a place."

He pulls into a gas station on the outskirts of the city, one of those old, rundown places with more rust than paint. An older man sits outside, smoking beside a collection of cars that have seen better days.

"Wait here," Sebastian tells me, then approaches the man.

I watch through the window as they talk, Sebastian gesturing to one of the cars—an ancient sedan that looks like it might have been blue once. Money changes hands, more than the car is worth, I'm sure. The man looks suspicious, but not enough to turn down cash.

Sebastian returns with a set of keys. "It's not much, but it can't be traced to me."

We transfer our few belongings to the old car, and Sebastian hands the keys to his car to the man, along with what looks like more cash. A deal to keep quiet, I assume.

The old car smells a little musty, like old cloth and dust, but the engine starts without protest. Sebastian drives us back onto the highway, heading away from the city.

"We’ll drive for a few hours," he says. "Find some out-of-the-way roadside motel, somewhere that takes cash, no cameras. We can rest there, figure out our next move."

I nod, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline that's been keeping me going is fading, leaving behind bone-deep weariness and the first tendrils of delayed shock. I lean my head against the window, watching the city lights recede in the side mirror.

"What happens after tonight?" I ask quietly.

Sebastian's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "We keep moving. Head west, maybe. Find somewhere to lay low until we can figure out a more permanent solution."

"They won't stop looking for us."

"I know." His voice is grim. "But they have to find us first."

We drive in silence for a while, the hum of the engine and the occasional passing car the only sounds.

I find myself watching Sebastian's profile in the dim light—the strong line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the focus in his eyes.

For years, he's been a constant presence in my life, at a distance at first, then gradually closer and closer, until everything collapsed into the silent, warm intimacy that lies between us now.

The thread of two people depending on each other, now.

“Luis would never have let my father do what he did,” I whisper. “Force me to marry someone like Vito. Marriage eventually, yes, but never—never to someone I so badly didn’t want to marry. He—” I swallow hard. “He would be glad to know that you were there to get me out.”

Sebastian glances over at me, and he reaches out with one hand, gently touching my leg. Heat flares through me from where his fingers are brushing against my thigh, even through the thick material of the sweatpants, and I look up at him, biting my lip.

“I’m scared,” I whisper, and his hand presses against my thigh, tightening for a moment before letting go.

“I will never let anyone hurt you, princess.” Sebastian refocuses on the road, driving into the night. “I promise you that.”