Zadie’s POV
The first thing I noticed was the beeping. Steady, rhythmic, annoying as hell. Then came the cold, too much of it. I blinked against the blinding white light and saw it: the hospital ceiling. No.
I shot up, heart racing, but pain sliced through my side like a blade. A gasp tore from my throat. My hands grabbed at the blanket, at the wires sticking out of me, and suddenly it all came crashing back. The gunfire. Lazaro shouting. Blood on his shirt. Me diving forward. The sound of a bullet meant for him.
“Lazaro,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. “Where is he? Is he-?” The door burst open before I could finish. I flinched, but then I saw him, Luca, all rumpled clothes and wild hair, holding a phone in one hand and coffee in the other.
“Jesus, Zadie,” he said, rushing over. “You’re awake.”
“Where is he?” I didn’t care about my injuries. I didn’t care about myself. “Where’s Lazaro? I saw him get hit-”
“He’s fine,” Luca cut in quickly, placing the coffee down and grabbing my hand. “He’s fine, I swear. Just a graze on the arm. He’s downstairs. He went out to get food.”
I couldn’t stop shaking. The words echoed in my ears, but my brain refused to process them. “He’s... alive?”
Luca smiled, genuinely, this time. “Yeah. And asking about you every damn hour like a man possessed.”
That’s when the tears came. Quiet at first, just a few hot streaks down my cheeks. Relief, guilt, fear… I couldn’t even name them all. I wiped them away, but Luca just gave my shoulder a squeeze and stood up.
“I’ll get the nurse,” he said. “You look like hell, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I croaked.
He was barely gone when the door opened again, and this time, my heart stopped for an entirely different reason. Lazaro.
He stepped inside like he owned the world, paper bag in hand, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder. There was a bandage around his left bicep, but otherwise, he looked... whole. His dark eyes locked on me, and the bag slipped from his fingers.
“You’re awake.” I wanted to scream at him. Cry. Hit him. Kiss him. My mouth moved, but nothing came out. He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped just at the edge of my bed. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“You got shot,” I rasped, reaching out without thinking. My fingers brushed the fabric near the bandage. “I thought-”
“You took a bullet for me, Zadie.”
“You would've done the same.”
He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “No. I wouldn’t have made it. You… ” He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, head dropping into his hands. “You almost died. For me.” I reached out again, this time cupping his face. His stubble scratched my palm, grounding me.
“We’re alive,” I said softly. “That’s what matters.”
He nodded once, then straightened and pulled the takeout bag closer. “You should eat.”
I gave a tired laugh. “Only you would think of food right after a shootout.”
“You fainted on me, bled on me, and now you’re mocking my food choices. Typical.” We ate in silence for a few minutes, though my appetite was almost nonexistent. I watched him more than I chewed. He looked different, worn, softer somehow.
“How’s Chief Chris?” I finally asked.
His jaw tensed, but he didn’t look away. “Behind bars. The court moved fast, thanks to your little recorder trick and the files you downloaded. He confessed under pressure.” A heavy weight lifted from my chest.
“It’s over?”
He leaned back, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It’s over.” The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Charged.
“I should’ve told you,” I whispered. “From the start. About who I was.”
“I figured it out eventually,” he replied, voice low. “Didn’t take a genius to realize you weren’t just some girl looking for a job.” I chuckled, but there was sadness in it.
“I didn’t expect to fall in love with you,” I admitted. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
He stood then, walked to the window, and stayed there for a moment with his back to me. “I kept trying to push you away. I thought you were dangerous. A threat. Maybe you were.”
“I was sent to bring you down.”
“And yet,” he turned to me slowly, eyes soft now, “you saved me instead.”
My throat burned. “I didn’t want to fall for you.”
“But you did.”
I nodded, just once. “I still do.”
He crossed the room again and leaned over, hands braced on either side of my bed. “I don’t care about your badge, Zadie. I don’t care what your name is or who sent you. You stood in front of a bullet for me. That’s real.”
“I don’t even know who I am without this mission,” I said with honesty.
“Then start over,” he said, voice rough. “With me.” My heart stuttered.
“You’d trust me after everything?” Shit, I am about to cry.
“I’d trust you with my life,” he said simply. “I already did.” He kissed me then, slow, deep, like a man who nearly lost everything and found it again in one woman. I kissed him back, pouring everything I had into it. The fear, longing, and love. When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against his.
“We’re a mess,” I whispered.
“But we’re alive.” And for now, that was enough.