Chapter 11

The steel door hissed and slid open.

The assassin looked up in shock, completely caught off guard by the door opening before his explosive was set.

He raised his gun, but I didn’t give him time to aim.

With a feral scream, I swung the heavy red fire extinguisher with every ounce of strength I had in my body.

The heavy metal cylinder slammed directly into the side of his head.

He dropped like a stone, his gun clattering across the hardwood floor.

I stood over him, panting, my hands shaking so violently I dropped the extinguisher. It rolled away with a hollow thud.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway.

Luca burst into the bedroom, covered in soot, his rifle raised.

He stopped dead when he saw me standing over the unconscious assassin in our bedroom.

He looked at the man, then at the fire extinguisher, then at me.

“I told you,” I breathed heavily, pushing my messy hair out of my face. “I am done running.”

Luca let out a breathless laugh, tossing his rifle onto the bed. He rushed forward and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug.

“Remind me never to make you angry,” he whispered into my hair.

“Mommy?” Grace peeked her head out of the panic room, her hands still over her ears.

Luca scooped her up in his other arm.

“It’s over,” Luca said to both of us. “Marco neutralized the rest in the courtyard. The FBI just intercepted the wire transfer Vanessa used to pay these guys. They’re adding terrorism charges. She is never seeing the sun again.”

I closed my eyes, leaning into the solid warmth of his chest.

Six months later, we finally took that trip to Hawaii.

The sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean, casting a golden glow over the white sand beach.

Grace was squealing with delight as the waves washed over the massive sandcastle she had built with Luca.

I sat on a beach towel, wearing a simple white sundress, watching my family.

Luca walked out of the surf, his dark hair wet, his tattoos gleaming in the sun. He looked relaxed. He looked happy.

He sat down next to me and pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

“Another one?” I laughed, remembering the bracelet he had given me the night this nightmare ended.

“This one is different,” he smiled, opening it.

Inside was a simple, elegant diamond ring.

“We got married in a rush five years ago,” Luca said softly, taking my left hand. “No family. No celebration. Just fear.”

He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

“I want a real wedding, Emily. I want to stand in front of the whole world and vow to protect you, love you, and honor you. Will you marry me? Again?”

I looked at the ring, then at the man who had torn down heaven and earth to put our family back together.

“Only if Grace gets to be the flower girl,” I smiled, tears pricking my eyes.

Grace came running up from the water, her hands covered in wet sand. She threw her arms around Luca’s neck, getting sand all over his expensive sunglasses.

He didn’t care. He just laughed and hugged her back.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, the ocean breeze warm against my skin.

The maid was gone. The runaway was gone.

I was Emily Moretti.

And finally, we were going to live happily ever after.

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