Chapter 193: Ghosts of the Living

Roman watched from a distance.

Hidden in the shadows, just beyond the reach of their world, he remained unseen, unheard—a ghost haunting the life he had once belonged to. The wind carried the scent of the sea, mixing with the faint glow of the houseboat’s lights, flickering against the water like a heartbeat. Her heartbeat. The one he had once been in sync with, the one he had once sworn to protect.

Now, she belonged to someone else.

He told himself this was what was best. That letting go was the right choice. That she needed to move forward. That this was the only way.

And yet, watching her slip away felt like a slow, brutal death.

He had known the moment she found his note. He had seen the way she clutched it to her chest, how her shoulders trembled as she absorbed the words he had left behind.

I love you. Let go.

He had meant it. Every word. But he had underestimated the way it would feel when she actually did.

His lungs burned as he exhaled, pressing a palm against the rough bark of a tree for balance. The ache in his body was nothing compared to the one in his chest. He had been shot before, beaten within an inch of his life. But nothing—nothing—had ever torn him apart the way this did.

Because when he saw her walk into that houseboat later that night, he knew.

When he saw the way she curled into Ginger, when he watched her slip into his arms as though they had been made to hold her, Roman knew.

She was choosing to let go.

Roman turned away, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists. He shouldn’t be here. He had sworn he wouldn’t come back. That once she had moved on, once she had let him go, he would stay away.

But he couldn’t.

Because deep down, despite everything, he wasn’t ready to stop fighting for her.

He had spent months convincing himself this was the only way. That disappearing was his greatest act of love. That staying away would keep her safe, keep their son from growing up in a world where Roman’s past could come back to destroy them.

But the longer he stood there, watching her settle into Ginger’s arms, the more he realized that he had underestimated something far worse than his enemies.

He had underestimated himself.

A flicker of light illuminated the window, and before he could stop himself, his gaze found her again. Her head rested against Ginger’s chest, her breathing even, her body tucked into his as if it belonged there.

Roman swallowed hard. Good. That’s what she deserves.

So why did it feel like his ribs were caving in?

The world blurred around him as memories crashed into his mind—

Nat’s laughter on warm summer nights. The way she had whispered his name against his skin, traced the scars on his chest like she could erase them with her touch. The way she had looked at him, fierce and unafraid, when he told her he wasn’t a good man.

"Then be my man," she had said. "And that will be enough."

It had been enough. Until he convinced himself it wasn’t.

Roman clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of his coat. He had walked away so she could be free, so she could be safe.

But deep down, in the marrow of his bones, Roman knew the truth.

He hadn’t let her go.

Not really.

He had told himself he would stay away, but now, standing here, watching the love of his life in another man’s arms, he knew there was no running from this.

He had to finish what he started.

He had to tie up the loose ends of his past, clear the path once and for all.

Because if he was going to leave her to a life without him, he needed to know—needed—that she was safe. That she was truly free of the dangers that had once been his burden to bear.

And if he couldn’t do that?

Then he wasn’t done fighting for her yet.

His gaze lingered on her one last time, his breath steadying, his purpose sharpening.

Then, with a final glance at the home he had left behind, Roman disappeared into the night.

He had work to do.