Marco's POV
If you care about her, you'll leave. Or else, she'll pay the price.
It wasn't the first threat I'd gotten in my life, but it was the first one that didn't aim at me, that's how they knew they'd win, by making me afraid to lose her, and it worked. I wanted to stay, God, I wanted to stay more than anything I've wanted in years, but the envelope, and the words inside it were louder than anything in the apartment.
I told myself I was doing the right thing, that I'd vanish for a while, maybe go find someone who could help, maybe speak to an old contact, maybe find Izac and end this once and for all, that was the lie I told myself so I could walk out the door.
I didn't leave forever, I left to breathe, to think, to protect her and to just clear up my head, yet maybe, I'll admit it now, a part of me hoped she'd come looking, just to know I mattered enough, just to know someone would notice, but I didn't want her to get hurt, never that.
The streets were quiet, the city hadn't woken up yet, I walked for a while, hands deep in my pockets, my heart heavier than it should've been for someone who claimed to be protecting someone, but the truth was… I was scared, scared of Izac, scared of my father, scared of myself but more than anything… I was scared of how much I felt for her, because that kind of love... it makes you reckless.
I sat on the edge of the river for hours, tossing rocks into the current like they could take my guilt with them, I thought about my mother, what she'd say if she saw me now, I thought about the time I stole cookies and she made me apologize to the store owner with tears running down my face, she wanted better for me and somehow, Elina made me believe I still had a chance to be that version of myself, not the son of a criminal, not a pawn in someone else's war.
Just... Marco, her Marco.
Around noon, I went to a cheap market and bought a few things, bread, fruit, tea, she liked tea in the evenings, I thought if I showed up with a bag in my hand, I could pretend I'd just stepped out for errands, like the letter didn't exist, like the threat didn't shape my every step.
I walked slowly.
Rehearsing what I'd say when I came back.
Maybe: "I'm sorry. I just needed air."
Or: "I was scared... but I'm here now, if you'll still have me."
And if she was angry, I'd let her scream, if she cried, I'd hold her, if she told me to go again, I'd beg her not to, because I realized something out there on those cold streets, in that hollow morning: There's no protecting someone by leaving them in the dark, and just as I turned the corner near our building, I heard it.
"Marco!" Her voice, Elina.
She called my name. I heard it like an echo underwater, distant, almost not real. I turned, and then the world collapsed, there was no time, just a sound, screeching tires, a scream, hers or mine, I don't know, and a blur of motion. Her body, small, fragile, unstoppable, stepping into the street like she was running toward something, like I was something worth running to.
But then…
The impact.
I didn't move.
I couldn't move.
Her name caught in my throat, jagged and breathless, as I saw her fly, saw her crumple onto the pavement like a broken thing, time slowed down, cruelly stretching every second like it wanted to punish me, everything inside me fractured.
I dropped the bag, it hit the ground and rolled away, some stupid bottle of water, a pack of bread, useless things, just for my legs to finally remember they belonged to me, and I ran.
"ELINA!"
I reached her side, breath gone, heart in my mouth, she was lying on her side, twisted in a way no one should ever be twisted, blood trickled from her temple, her lips were parted, and her eyes…
No.
No, no, no.
"Elina. Baby. Please." My hands hovered, unsure where to touch, terrified that touching might make it worse. "Open your eyes. Come on. Please, look at me."
But she didn't. I collapsed next to her, hands trembling as I pulled off my jacket and pressed it against her head. "You're okay. You're okay. You're gonna be okay." I said it like a prayer, like if I repeated it enough, it would become truth.
Someone shouted in the distance, a woman screamed, a man ran forward, talking fast in Italian. I couldn't understand him. I didn't care.
"Call an ambulance!" I roared. "Please, somebody, she needs help!"
I looked back at her, her chest was rising, barely, but it was rising, she is alive, she's still here.
"Stay with me, Elina," I whispered, brushing her hair from her face. "You're not leaving me. Not like this. You hear me?"
The sirens came too slowly, every second without them felt like a sin.
I thought about the letter, I thought about how I left, I thought I was protecting her, but all I've done was leaving her in the dark with nothing but fear and confusion, and still, she ran after me like I was something worth breaking for. Tears burned down my face, silent, unrelenting. I haven't cried since my mother death, but now Elina is bleeding, and all of it is my fault.
Just when the ambulance came, I backed away to let the medics work but my body didn't stop shaking, my voice didn't stop calling her name like a broken record, I climbed in with them, held her hand the whole way, but she never woke up.