Chapter Hundred-Eleven–Breaking Point
Chapter Hundred-Eleven–Breaking Point
She shook her head. “Then we die together.”
He exhaled sharply. “Stop saying things like that.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes, you are,” he said again, voice cold now, as if he was trying to convince himself too. “This isn’t a request. You’ll go.”
Isabella looked at him for a long time. “What happened to ‘we’ll find quiet together’ What happened to not pushing me away when things gets hard?”
“That was before they tried to blow you up,” he said, his tone flat. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep wondering when they’ll come for you next.”
“So what, you’re just sending me away?”
“I’m setting you free.”
She blinked, trying to keep her composure. “You think that sounds noble, don’t you? Like you’re sacrificing something.”
He didn’t respond. He turned away again, shoulders stiff.
“Look at me,” she said quietly. When he didn’t, she raised her voice. “Dante, look at me!”
He turned his head slightly.
“You really think I’ll just leave? After everything we’ve been through?”
“You’ll do it because I’m asking you to,” he said. “And because deep down, you know I’m right.”
She gave a short, bitter laugh. “You’re not right. You’re scared.”
“Of losing you? Yeah, I am. You think that’s weakness? Then fine. I’m weak.”
Her eyes softened, but she didn’t move closer. “Then don’t make this harder.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, visibly fighting with himself. “You don’t get it. They’ll keep coming, and they’ll keep using you to get to me. I can’t—” His voice cracked for the first time. “I can’t watch that happen.”
“So you’d rather break us now before they can?”
He didn’t answer. The silence said enough.
Isabella swallowed hard. “You’re doing this for me, right?”
He nodded once.
“Then I’ll go,” she said quietly.
That made him look at her again, eyes flickering with surprise and pain. “You will?”
She nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “If it’ll make you feel like you’re protecting me, I’ll do it.”
He looked at her like he didn’t quite believe her, then nodded once. “There’s a car behind the shed. It’s fueled and ready.”
“I’ll leave in the morning,” she said, looking down.
“Tonight,” he corrected.
She bit her lip, then said softly, “Fine. Tonight.”
He walked to the door, hand on the knob, but didn’t open it. “Don’t come back.”
Her throat tightened. “Don’t tell me that.”
“I mean it, Isabella.”
“You’ll regret saying that,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.
He turned, meeting her eyes for one brief second. “I already do.”
She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. She grabbed her coat, forcing herself not to look at him again. “If this is what you want, then… fine.”
Dante didn’t move, didn’t stop her. He stood there, frozen, as she walked out.
When the door closed, he sank down on the floor, his back against the wall, staring at the space she had just left. His breathing was shallow, uneven. He pressed his palms against his face, trying to steady himself.
Outside, Isabella wiped her tears with the back of her hand, whispering under her breath, “You idiot.” She knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t pushing her away because he didn’t care. He was trying to draw attention off her, to make her a lesser target.
But that didn’t make it hurt less.
She climbed into the old car behind the shed, the same one Dante had fixed up days ago. The seat smelled faintly of gasoline and his cologne. Her hands shook as she turned the key.
Inside the cabin, Dante heard the engine start. He looked toward the window but didn’t go out. He stayed where he was, listening as the sound of the car faded down the dirt road.
When it was gone, he finally whispered to no one, “Stay alive. Please just stay alive.”
The room felt emptier than ever.
He stood, walked to the table, and picked up her mug still half full of coffee from the morning. It was cold now. He set it down again, staring at it for a long time.
In the distance, thunder rolled faintly, even though there were no clouds left.