Page 25 of The Mafia’s Second Shot (Burning For You Again #3)
COOPER
T he morning light filters through the cabin’s windows, casting long shadows across the floor. I sit at the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees, staring at the faint outline of the mountains through the glass. My mind is a mess of emotions, tangled up in what happened last night.
Zoey.
The sound of her name in my head is enough to steady me, even as my chest tightens with the weight of what we’ve shared.
It wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was something deeper.
Something raw and honest. For the first time in years, I feel like I have a purpose beyond survival. And that purpose is her.
I leave the bedroom quietly, not wanting to wake her, and head into the kitchen. The cabin is still, the kind of silence that feels more like peace than emptiness. I brew a pot of coffee and lean against the counter, sipping from a mug as my thoughts drift to the future.
Can I really give her the life she deserves? A life free from fear, from danger? I want to believe it’s possible, but I know better. Rossi’s still out there, and as long as he is, she’ll never be safe.
My phone buzzes on the counter, cutting through the quiet. Marco’s name flashes across the screen, and I answer immediately.
“Talk to me,” I say, keeping my voice low.
“Rossi’s men are still looking,” Marco replies. “They’ve been asking around near the city, but no one’s given them anything solid yet.”
“Yet,” I echo, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “How much longer do you think we have?”
“It’s hard to say,” he admits. “They’re not being subtle, though. If they keep pressing, it’s only a matter of time before someone talks.”
I grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. “Keep me updated. And double-check the security around the scattered factions. I don’t want anyone slipping through.”
“Already on it,” Marco says. He hesitates before adding, “Cooper... be careful.”
“I always am,” I reply, ending the call.
But the truth is, I don’t feel careful. I feel exposed. Vulnerable. The idea of Rossi’s men finding us—finding Zoey—makes my stomach churn. I can’t let that happen. Not again.
When I turn around, Zoey is standing in the doorway, her hair tousled and her arms crossed. She looks at me, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I lie, setting the phone down. “Just checking in with Marco.”
She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “And?”
“And Rossi’s men are still looking,” I admit, exhaling sharply. “But they haven’t found anything yet.”
Zoey steps into the kitchen, grabbing a mug and pouring herself some coffee. She moves with a calmness that surprises me, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.
“How much longer do you think we’ll be safe here?” she asks, her voice quiet.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But we’re as secure as we can be for now.”
She nods, taking a sip of her coffee. “And after that? What happens next?”
I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
“That’s not an answer, Cooper,” she says, her tone sharper now. “I need to know what your plan is. For us.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and I feel my defenses rising instinctively. “My plan is to keep you safe,” I say firmly. “That’s all that matters.”
“And what about you?” she presses. “What happens if keeping me safe puts you in danger? What happens if?—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I interrupt, my voice hard. “As long as you’re with me, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Zoey sets her mug down, her hands trembling slightly. “You keep saying that, but it’s not enough, Cooper. I can’t live like this—always looking over my shoulder, always wondering when the next threat is coming.”
I rub a hand over my face, the weight of her words pressing down on me. “You think I don’t feel the same way? Every day I ask myself if I’ve made the right choices. If I’ve done enough to protect you. If I’ve done enough to deserve you.”
Her expression softens, and she steps closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm. “This isn’t just about protecting me,” she says gently. “This is about us. About whether we can survive this together.”
The tension in the room shifts, the raw vulnerability between us cutting through the fear. I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers, and pull her closer.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not again.”
“You won’t,” she says, her eyes searching mine. “But you have to let me help. You have to let me face this with you.”
Her words stir something deep inside me—a mix of fear and hope. I’ve spent so long trying to shield her from the worst parts of my life, but maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s not about keeping her out. Maybe it’s about facing it together.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I say honestly. “I’ve spent so long protecting people, I don’t know how to let them protect me.”
Zoey smiles faintly, her hand squeezing mine. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
Her words feel like a lifeline, pulling me out of the spiral of doubt and guilt. For the first time in years, I feel like I can see a way forward—not just for me, but for us.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of quiet moments—Zoey reading by the fire while I check the perimeter, the two of us sharing stories over lunch. It’s not perfect, but it feels... real. Like something worth fighting for.
That night, as we sit on the couch, her head resting against my shoulder, I feel a strange sense of peace. The danger is still there, looming on the horizon, but for now, in this moment, we’re okay.
And that’s enough.