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We break apart only long enough for him to look at me.

Like, really look, as though he’s trying to retain every detail of this moment.

And the look in his eyes? Fuck me. There is something reverent in his eyes that steals the breath out of my lungs. Like I’m not just the girl he loves, but the last piece of himself he hasn’t surrendered to the world.

His hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek before trailing down my neck, over my collarbone, slow and deliberate. I feel his breath on my skin, his gaze burning paths even before his hands follow.

When he lowers me back onto the mattress, it isn’t rushed. It isn’t frantic. It’s a slow unravelling, the kind you feel in your chest more than your body. Every touch, every kiss, every heartbeat is soaked in something so much deeper than lust.

I sigh when he kisses the corner of my mouth, the hollow of my throat, the place just below my ear that makes my breath hitch every time.

Ares worships me in silence, like it’s the only language we have left.

His hands never stray, palming, guiding, anchoring me to him, holding me close enough that we can keep pretending the world outside doesn’t exist. That its shadows can’t reach us here.

Clothes fall away, piece by piece, but there’s no haste. Just need and devotion.

By the time Ares sinks into me, we’re nothing but bare skin and tangled breath, caught in a rhythm older than language. His forehead rests against mine, our bodies pressed so tightly there’s no telling where I end and he begins.

And even in the quiet, I hear everything he’s not saying. That I’m his. That he’s mine.

That this is the war he’s willing to lose if it means holding me like this, just one more time.

And still, deep down, I know…

This will be the last.

It’s barely morning when the sky turns the colour of bruised lavender, and I know our time is almost up.

Ares hasn’t slept, and neither have I.

We’ve been lying tangled in the hush of early light, our bodies a knot of limbs and longing, skin to skin, hearts racing, as if the slightest distance would destroy us.

His hand rests on the curve of my hip, warm beneath the sheets, breath soft against the back of my neck.

Every now and then, he presses a kiss there, and it feels like a promise he won’t say out loud.

But it’s not just his touch that feels different. It’s the way he holds me, too tight, too still.

But it’s the moment I feel his palm slide over my stomach in a lazy pass and settle there without thinking. His thumb gently caresses my skin.

My heart clenches in my chest. I cover his hand with my own, eyes stinging. A tear slips silently into the pillow. I soak up this precious moment. Burn it into my mind to remember later. The one and only time the three of us were together as one.

I don’t speak.

Because if I do, I’ll fall apart.

Outside, the world begins to stir. Birds hum like a warning. The air is heavy with something unspoken, like even the morning knows what today means.

His fingers trail down my arm, slow and steady, his touch leaving a line of goosebumps in its wake.

Eventually, he shifts. Muscles tense. Like a man who is suiting up for war.

My chest tightens. I’m not ready to let go...not yet. So, I reach out and wrap my fingers around his wrist. “Stay,” I whisper, the word catching on my breath. “Just a little longer.”

He looks at me, and whatever I see in his eyes nearly undoes me. Slowly, he lies back down and pulls me into him, burying his face in my neck as though he can hide there. Like maybe, if we’re quiet enough, time will stop and morning won’t come.

We breathe together in the dark.

When he moves again, it’s with reluctance. A kiss on my shoulder. A brush of his thumb down my jaw.

I hear him sigh before she speaks. “I’m sorry, bambina, I have to go, but I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs. “Dante and I are just checking the place one last time before your transfer. I want eyes on every door. No risks.”

I nod, not trusting my voice. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll start sobbing.

I watch him while he dresses. All black. Tactical. Lethal. Like the man who always walks towards danger when the rest of the world runs from it.

Just before he leaves, he leans over and brushes a strand of hair from my cheek. “Ti amo, bambina.”

I close my eyes. Soak up the gravel in his voice.

The tenderness is buried deep beneath all that steel.

Before he can pull away, I sit up on my knees, pull him back to me and kiss him one last time.

Ares doesn’t hesitate; his hand comes up to cradle the back of my neck as he responds to the kiss with equal fervour.

When we pull apart, we’re both breathing hard. With our eyes closed, we stay in that moment for as long as we can before Ares reluctantly pulls back so he can look at me. And the moment he does, when our eyes meet, I feel a shift in his gaze...almost like he can sense that something is wrong.

“I love you, too,” I whisper.

Ares offers me a smile and presses a kiss to my forehead, and then he’s gone.

I wait until the growl of his Ducati fades into the distance before I move.

The floor is ice beneath my feet. Every step feels like it might collapse me, but I keep moving. Like some part of me already decided this. Like I’m just following orders I carved in my bones.

I go to the dresser. Slide open the top drawer.

The envelope is still there.

Bianca’s envelope. IDs. Cash. A plane ticket. But tucked just beneath it, something else catches the light. The test. The one I should have thrown away, but couldn’t.

I pick it up with shaking fingers and stare at the single word printed there like a brand. Pregnant.

A jagged breath leaves me.

He doesn’t know. And now, he might never.

Slowly, I move to his nightstand and slide the test into the leather journal he thinks I don’t know he writes in. The one he touches after nightmares. The one he keeps locked beside the bed like a secret.

It feels right, leaving it there. Quiet and hidden. A truth waiting to be found. Maybe if he finds it in time, it will give him something to hold on to, something to keep fighting for. He’ll know that I have a piece of him with me.

I dress in silence. Jeans. His hoodie. Trainers. No makeup. Nothing to draw attention.

Just a girl running errands.

Not a girl running from the only man she’s ever loved.

I glance back at the bedroom one last time.

The bed’s still unmade, the scent of him, of us, clinging to the sheets like a ghost. A slow, uneven breath leaves me as the weight of everything we shared in this room crashes over me.

My emotions unravel, the dam explodes and everything I’ve been keeping inside surges out of me.

I choke on the sob that’s been growing in my chest. And when my knees buckle, I press my back to the door, and cry into the silence.

Come on, Jordyn. You’re doing this for him. You can fall apart later.

Using the sleeves on the hoodie, I wipe away the tears and crack the bedroom door open and make my way to the front door.

The guards are still posted outside. Watching like hawks. But they don’t look suspicious.

One of them turns to look at me when I step outside. “I just need to grab a few things from the manor,” I say, casually.

One of them offers to escort me. I smile and shake my head. “It’s fine. I won’t be long.”

And then I’m walking.

Across gravel. Past olive trees. Toward the house that feels more like a mausoleum than a home.

It’s still early, just gone five in the morning.

The manor is still when I slip through the door, wrapped in silence and the faint blue hush of dawn.

No creaking floorboards. No movement upstairs.

Everyone’s still asleep. Good. The staff aren’t up yet.

I move quietly through the corridor, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might echo off the walls. Up the stairs, down the hall, back to my room. The door closes behind me with a soft click.

I don’t turn on the light. I move by instinct.

The backpack I stashed in the closet is already half-packed. I throw in what I need, cash, the envelope, my charger, a change of clothes. My fingers tremble, but I keep going. Quick, focused. Almost mechanical.

I don’t hear the door open until it’s too late. The floorboard creaks just outside the door, then, “Jordyn?”

I freeze.

Bianca steps into the room, bleary-eyed in her oversized sleep shirt, hair pulled up in a messy bun. She doesn’t say anything at first. Her eyes flick from the bag on the bed to my shoes, then finally to my face.

She doesn’t look surprised. Only awake now.

“What are you doing?” Her voice is low; a whisper made for the quiet.

“What I should have done a long time ago. I’m leaving.”

She doesn’t ask why, only releases a sigh of relief.

Instead, she steps further into the room and gently closes the door behind her. “Thank God,” she says softly. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

I stare at her. “You did?”

She nods, eyes softer than I’ve seen in a while. “Yes, I did. You’ve been holding your breath since the day you met him. And now… now you’re finally doing what your heart’s been begging you to do.”

I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off gently. “You love him,” she says, stepping closer. “And when you love someone like that, really love them, you’d rather lose them than watch them get torn apart because of you. You’re doing the right thing, Jord.”