⊰ 26 ⊱ Love's Fragile Thread

As I sit in my study, I can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. It’s Tuesday evening, and once again, I find myself across from Katherine, our usual therapy session underway.

“I don’t know what to do,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. “Ben… he kissed me last night. And I’m terrified that if Marcel finds out, it’ll ruin everything we’ve been working towards.”

Katherine leans back in her seat, her legs crossed in front of her, her gaze steady and free of judgment. “Mercy,” she says softly, her voice filled with gentle understanding. “We’ve talked about this before. Secrets and lies, they’ve only ever harmed your mental health in the past. They create barriers, breed mistrust. If you want to build a strong, healthy relationship with Marcel, honesty is key.”

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I know she’s right. I know that keeping this from Marcel will only eat away at me and create more distance between us. But the thought of telling him, of seeing the hurt and anger in his eyes…it terrifies me.

*He beat the shit out of Frank when he put his hands on me and we weren’t even…together. Now this? He might actually kill Ben. Or worse…*

*What if he thinks I enjoyed it? Asked for it even?*

“I’m scared,” I admit, my fingers twisting in my lap. “What if he doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks I…I *wanted* it to happen?”

Katherine shakes her head, a small, reassuring smile on her lips. “Mercy, Marcel loves you. Deeply. He’s proven it time and time again, and he trusts you. Yes, he may be upset, but if you approach him with honesty and openness, if you explain the situation…I believe he’ll understand.”

Honesty and openness? Do you know what my husband does for a living? Have you heard of blood and bullets?

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I know she’s right. I need to have faith in Marcel. Keeping this from him will only poison us from the inside out.

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly. “I’ll talk to him. Tonight.”

Katherine nods, pride and encouragement shining in her eyes. She glances at her watch, a slight frown on her face. “That’s all the time we have for today. See you Friday?”

I nod, managing a small, grateful smile despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “Thanks, Katherine.” I hesitate for a moment before adding, “And thank you for coming to my birthday…thing. I can’t remember if I said that already, with everything that happened.”

Her smile widens, warmth dancing in her eyes. “It was a pleasure to finally meet everyone,” she assures me, grabbing her bag and rising to her feet.

I walk her to the front door, bidding her goodbye before making my way to the kitchen. The scent of Mauricio’s cooking wafts through the air, making my stomach grumble despite the anxiety churning inside me.

“Mercy!” He greets me with a smile as I enter the kitchen. “I was just preparing dinner. Will you be joining us tonight?”

I shake my head, offering him an apologetic look. “I’m not really hungry for food,” I admit, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my sweater.

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “I made you some fruit cups,” he says, gesturing to the fridge. “I’ll make sure to pack up some mac and cheese for you, in case you get peckish later.”

*Mac and cheese actually sounds great right now.*

“Thanks, Mauricio,” I murmur, grabbing one of the cups from the fridge. “You’re the best.”

He nods, turning back to his bubbling pots and sizzling pans as I make my way out. I head back to my study, the cool glass of the fruit cup comforting in my hand. I settle onto the chaise, picking at the colorful chunks of melon and strawberries, trying to distract myself from the conversation looming ahead.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. I try to lose myself in a book, in the mindless scrolling of Instagram, and —

*Ooh… Drake v Kendrick? What’s that all about?*

I’m engrossed in celebrity drama until finally, the sky outside my window has turned inky black, and I make my way to the bedroom, anxiety bubbling all over again, my heart in my throat.

Marcel isn’t back yet, likely still wrapped in whatever business he’s trending to. A part of me is relieved, grateful I have more time to brace myself. But another part, a much larger part, just wants to get it over with, to rip off the band-aid and face the fallout.

I crawl into bed, propping myself up against the headboard, my phone in hand. In a moment of desperation, I find myself opening an incognito window, my cheeks burning as I type: *How to tell your husband another man kissed you.*

I scroll through the results, each one more useless than the last. Generic advice about honesty and communication, as if it's that simple when your husband is a mafia boss with a notorious temper.

I’m so immersed in my fruitless search that I barely register the bedroom door opening. Swiftly, I exit the browser, setting my phone down on the nightstand with a trembling hand. Marcel enters, his suit jacket already shrugged off, his eyes finding mine across the room.

“You’re up late,” he remarks, making his way over to me, his lips brushing against the top of my head in a gentle kiss.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “I was waiting for you,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady.

He shoots me a small, tired smile, and I watch as he reaches into the holster attached to the lapel of his jacket, pulling out his gun and placing it in the drawer of his nightstand with a careful, practiced motion.

*He looks so tired…*

I know I should tell him. I know I need to get this off my chest, but at the sight of him, all my carefully rehearsed words fly out of my head, replaced by a sudden, desperate need to be close to him.

I crawl across the bed, kneeling at the edge, my arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. He stiffens for a moment, surprise flickering across his face, but then he’s melting into me, his own arms encircling my waist, pulling me flush against him.

I tilt my head up, capturing his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. He responds immediately, his mouth moving against mine with a gentle urgency that makes my toes curl. I feel him harden against me, his body reacting to my touch, and for a moment, I’m tempted.

I’m tempted to lose myself in him, in the heat and passion and the blissful oblivion of his embrace. It would be so easy, so simple, to let this lead where it always does, to delay the inevitable for just a little longer.

But I can’t. I won’t. The voice in my head, the one that sounds suspiciously like Katherine, urges me on, reminding me of the importance of truth and trust, of facing my fears head-on instead of cowering until it inevitably consumes me and drives me to self-destruct.

*Fuck.*

With a sigh, I break our kiss, pulling back slightly to look into those beautiful golden-brown eyes of his. “Marcel,” I breathe, steeling myself. “We need to talk.”

Instantly, I see the change in him, the way his brow furrows, concern and a hint of fear flickering in his gaze. “Is everything alright?” he asks, his hands tightening on my hips.

I open my mouth to respond, the automatic ‘*yes*’ on the tip of my tongue. But I catch myself, swallowing it back. “I…no,” I admit, my voice trembling.

I sit back on my heels, looking up at him, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it. I see his lips part, a question forming, but before he can voice it, I blurt out the words that have been haunting me all day.

“Ben kissed me.”

The silence that follows is deafening, the air between us suddenly thick with tension. I see the shock register on Marcel’s face, quickly replaced by a flash of pure anger, so intense it steals the breath from my lungs.

Panic rises in my throat, and I’m scrambling to explain, the words tumbling out of me in a desperate rush. “I didn’t…I didn’t kiss him back,” I assure him, my voice high and thin. “I pushed him away, I swear. I would never…I-I could never…”

But he’s not listening, not really. I can see it in the set of his jaw, the coiled tension in his muscles. He’s moving before I can react, reaching for the drawer of his nightstand and yanking it open. My heart stops when I see him pull out his gun, his fingers white-knuckled around the grip. He strides towards the door, his eyes hard as flint, his steps purposeful.

“No!” I cry out, scrambling off the bed, throwing myself between him and the exit. “Marcel, please, you can’t… Just…just calm down.”

“Calm down?” he snarls, his eyes blazing with fury. “He *kissed* you, Mercy. He put his fucking hands on you! And you want me to, what? Let it go?”

I bring my shaky hands up, bracing them against his muscular chest. “I know,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know you’re angry. But please, Marcel…if you do this, if you kill him, a federal agent… it’ll ruin everything. We’re so close to being free from this life. Don’t throw it away. Please, not now.”

He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, his knuckles white around the grip of his gun. Hesitantly, I lower my hand from his chest, my fingers trembling as I try to pry the weapon from his grasp.

For a moment, he resists, his grip like iron. But then, slowly, incrementally, I feel his fingers loosen, allowing me to take the gun from him.

“When?” he asks, his voice hard and rough, like gravel.

I hesitate, knowing the answer will only fuel his anger. “Yesterday,” I admit, my gaze dropping to the floor. “I was in the lab with them, just wrapping things up. Pablo stepped out to use the restroom, and…”

I can practically feel the flash of betrayal I know flickers in his eyes, the unspoken question: ‘*Why didn’t you tell me sooner?*’

“You were so busy,” I rush to explain, the words spilling out of me, “and I was shaken up. I didn’t know how to tell you. I needed advice, so I talked to Katherine, and…”

I trail off, sudden embarrassment washing over me. “I even Googled it,” I confess, my voice small, my cheeks burning. “How to…tell your husband another man kissed you.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. But then, to my utter shock, I hear a soft chuckle, prompting my gaze to snap up to his face.

“You Googled it?” he asks, a hint of incredulous amusement in his voice.

I feel a rush of indignation, my hand subconsciously smacking against his chest. “Don’t laugh at me!” I protest, even as relief floods through me, loosening the knot in my stomach. “I was freaking out, okay?”

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulls me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’m sorry.”

I melt into him, breathing in the familiar scent of his spicy cologne, relishing in the strength of his embrace. “So you’re not going to kill him?” I ask, half-joking, half-genuinely concerned.

He’s quiet for a moment, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. “I haven’t decided yet,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Marcel!” I chide, pulling back to look at him, searching his face for any sign that he’s actually serious.

He sighs, releasing me as he turns towards the bathroom, but his jaw remains clenched. “I’m joking,” he assures me over his shoulder, but there’s a steely edge to his voice. “But we *are* going to have a conversation, him and I.”

He pauses at the threshold, turning back to face me, a stern look on his face. “You’re done working with them,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I mean it, Mercy. I don’t want you alone with either of them ever again. Do you understand?”

I nod, a shiver running down my spine at the quiet command in his voice.

*I wasn’t planning to go back there again anyway. I’m done.*

Satisfied, he nods lightly, his gaze flickering to the gun still clutched in my hand. “And doll? Put that down before you hurt yourself.”

I glance down, my eyes widening as I realize I’m still holding his weapon. With a gasp, I set it down on the nearest surface, my cheeks flaming. “Oh! Sorry…”

He smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re so fucking cute,” he mutters, disappearing into the bathroom.

In the next moment, I hear the sound of the shower running, the rush of water against tile. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a smile spreading across my face.

*We’re going to be okay.*

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe again, like things are finally starting to go back to normal between us.

*Always.*