The temperature inside the black SUV dropped as Enzo Marchetti slammed the door shut, locking it with a sharp click that resonated through the cabin.

The private medical facility on the north side of the city smelled of antiseptic and lemon polish, a far cry from the stark, sterile terror of a public hospital.

Claire stirred slowly, her eyelids fluttering against the soft, warm light filtering through the lace curtains of the second-floor recovery room. Her head felt as though it had been split open by an axe, a dull, throbbing ache radiating behind her eyes, but the sharp, agonizing burn of the initial shock had faded into a manageable, medicated haze.

She tried to move her hand, but a gentle weight rested against her fingers.

She turned her head slowly, wincing at the pull of the stitches near her temple. Sitting in a leather wingback chair beside the bed, his dark suit jacket discarded, his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows, was Enzo Marchetti.

He looked exhausted. The sharp lines of his face were softened by the dim light, dark circles shadowing eyes that looked like they hadn't slept in a decade. He was holding a small, paper cup of cold coffee in one hand, staring absently out the window toward the gray morning sky.

"You're still here," she whispered, her voice cracking like dry parchment.

Enzo snapped out of his reverie instantly. He set the cup down on the side table and leaned forward, his large hand gently covering hers where it rested on the crisp white sheet.

"I told you I was coming back," he said softly, his deep voice carrying a warmth that completely dismantled the terrifying aura he projected to the outside world.

Claire swallowed hard, her throat still dry. "Where is Sadie?"

"Down the hall," Enzo answered immediately, his expression softening further. "Ray found a nurse who brought her a stack of coloring books and a mountain of pancakes. She’s currently arguing with Ray about whether dogs can eat chocolate. She’s safe, Claire. Nobody is ever getting near either of you again."

Claire closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath that felt like releasing five years of trapped air. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, tracking down her bruised cheek. "They broke into the house. I thought... I thought we were dead. I was getting ready for..." She stopped, a faint blush warming her pale skin. "I was getting ready for our date."

"I know," Enzo said, his thumb gently wiping away the tear. "And I'm sorry I was late. In my line of work, punctuality is a religion. Missing our first appointment is a sin I intend to spend the rest of my life making up for."

Claire opened her eyes, looking up into those dark, intense depths that had terrified hardened killers across the city just hours earlier. Right now, there was no monster in those eyes—only a quiet, unwavering promise.

"You didn't answer my text," she murmured, a tiny, teasing smile touching her lips despite the pain.

"My phone died," Enzo deadpanned, though a rare, genuine smile broke across his face. "Or rather, I threw it out the window of my car when your daughter ran into my leg and changed the universe."