Chapter 35 From hurt to hard
Lina’s POV
I don’t remember getting out of the building.
The only thing I remember is hands on my arms. Cold air. Someone said “clear” in my ear like I was part of the equipment being moved.
The car smelled like leather and gun oil. I kept waiting for another shot to come through the window, for glass again, for Carlino to shove me down. It never came. That almost made it worse.
He didn’t look at me the entire drive. Not once. His phone was already in his ear before the doors were fully shut. His voice had gone flat in that way it did when something inside him locked into place.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“I want names, the attacks are enough.”
I pressed my forehead to the cold window and watched the city blur past, trying to stop shaking without letting him see.
The place he brought me to is a safe house that was under a bakery. I thought they were joking when we stopped. Then someone opened a side door and warm air hit my face — thick with yeast.
It made me feel sick.
Inside was small. Low ceiling. Old tile floors. A couch that had definitely been dragged down a narrow staircase at some point in its life.
Carlino walked straight past me into the kitchen area and stayed there. Phone. Calls. Short sentences. Long silences.
I stood in the middle of the room for a while before one of his men handed me a hoodie that was too big and didn’t meet my eyes.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he said gently, like I might break.
I showered, but I still felt dirty after. My skin kept remembering things my brain didn’t know how to process yet — his hands, the gunshot, the way he’d covered me.
I lay down on the narrow bed in the back room and stared at the wall. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.
I just… stopped being awake.
When I opened my eyes again, the room was gray and quiet except for a low humming sound. For a second I thought it was traffic.
Then I smelled bread.
Right. Basement bakery bunker. Totally normal life.
I sat up too fast and my body reminded me I’d hit the floor hard earlier. My shoulder ached. My hip throbbed. There was a faint bruise on my forearm shaped suspiciously like fingers.
I didn’t know how to feel about that. I found him in the other room by the small window near the ceiling. You could only see people’s legs passing by outside.
He was dressed again. All black. Vest on. Gun in pieces on the table in front of him.
Clean. Controlled. Like the man from last night had been packed away in a box somewhere.
“You’re awake,” he said.
I leaned against the doorway. “Yeah. Hard to sleep through the smell of aggressive baking.”
He didn’t smile.
“Are we going to talk about it?” I asked.
“About the attack? My team tracked the shot. Crane at the docks. The shooter's gone.”
“Not that.”
He kept working on the gun. I hated that he knew exactly what I meant.
“Carlino.”
The cloth in his hand stopped moving for a second, then started again.
“There is no ‘us’ until Kailen is dead,” he said. “Last night was a lapse.”
A lapse.
I actually blinked. “You almost got shot covering me and you’re calling it a lapse like you forgot to send an email?”
His jaw tightened but he didn’t look at me. “Emotions get people killed.”
“So does pretending you don’t have any.” That made him look up.
“It’s not pretending,” he said quietly. “Every time I let myself want you, I lose focus. If I lose focus, you die.”
“That’s not romantic, Carlino. That’s just sad.”
Something flickered in his eyes, gone fast. “If you want someone who talks about feelings, find a different man. I’m here to keep you alive.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I snapped.
“Yes you didn't, but now? You have a protector,” he said. “This is what I am.”
He left an hour later.
Same instructions. Same calm voice. Stay inside. Don’t open the door. And then the part that made my stomach drop.
“If I’m not back by midnight,” he said, not looking at me, “there’s a passport and cash under the floorboard in the bedroom.”
Like he was telling me where the spare batteries were.
After the door shut, the place felt smaller. Like the ceiling had lowered a few inches. I lasted until 10 PM before I started pacing.
By 11, I checked the floorboard. Passport. My face. Different names. Money. A note.
“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” The note read.
I read it three times so that more words might appear. But they never did.
I sat on the edge of the bed with the note in my hand and felt something in my chest go from hurt to hard.
“No,” I said out loud to the empty room.
“You don’t get to decide that for me.” I found a knife in the kitchen. Big. Heavy. Probably meant for bread, which felt ironic. I sat on the couch with it in my lap and watched the clock.
11:42
11:51
11:58
Every car sound outside made my heart jump.
Midnight came and went.
Nothing.
I stood up, throat tight. He’s not coming back. The thought didn’t make me cry. It made me angry.
I went to the door.
The floor thumped under my feet.
I froze.
It happened again. A dull, rhythmic vibration, like something heavy moving below us.
I knelt and pressed my ear to the floor before I could talk myself out of how insane that was.
Voices. Muffled.
“…ventilation…”
“…flush her out…”
“…Carlino’s already handled…”
My blood went cold so fast it almost felt hot. A thin gray mist started slipping out of the air vent near the ceiling. Sweet smell. Wrong smell.
“Oh God,” I muttered.
I pulled my hoodie over my mouth and stumbled backward, eyes stinging. I dragged the table under the tiny window, shoved a chair on top of it, and climbed with shaking legs. I hit the glass with the knife handle. Once. Twice. It cracked. Then gave.
Cold air rushed in and I sucked it in like I’d been underwater. I hauled myself up onto the ledge and looked down into the alley.
Black car.
A man leaning against it, smoking like he had all the time in the world. He looked up right at me. And I saw his lips curved into a smile.
Raised his hand and waved. Then he held something up. Even from up there, I knew it. Carlino’s silver lighter.
My stomach dropped so hard I thought I might actually fall. He flicked it open.
Flame.
“Time to go, Lina!” he called. Casual. Like we were late for dinner. “Your ride’s here!”
Behind me, the room was filled with gas. In front of me, the man who might have Carlino — dead or alive.
I didn’t think too much. I just jumped.