I was over caring. Over trying and taking care of myself. Losing him was all that consumed me. It was hard to think about anything else when the other piece of my beating heart was out there somewhere. Jared was trying, as was my father.

They didn’t understand. They didn’t feel the pain deep down to the epicenter. Our love was built on fire, passion, betrayal, and hate. We might not have been meant to be together, but falling in love with him was the most exhilarating thing I had ever done in my life.

The debt is never going to be settled, Piccolo.” My body shuddered as the memory of that very conversation flooded into me.

“Why?” I cried out as he pulled me closer to his mouth. His hot breath was on my face, and he smelled like bourbon and man. Sweat still lined his brow, and blood seeped through the bandage on his shoulder.

“Because now it’s I who is indebted to you…”

This was his repayment to me. His way of thanking me, by making sure I was free of the pain. I would no longer have to deal with the Mafia lifestyle. I would no longer have to fear for my life. What he took with all of it was himself—he removed himself from all of it.

“Come on, Bree. You can’t spend the rest of your life in this bedroom,” Jared spoke from the doorjamb.

Burying myself deeper into the pillow, I screamed. I wanted to hurt someone. Something. Anything to help dull the pain slicing through my chest. People said time heals all wounds, but I think it’s a lie. Wounds don’t heal. We just learned to deal with the pain of losing them differently.

“Jared, I will pull a fucking knife on you if you come in here and tell me what to do again.” I had no filter. I had no reason to care if I hurt others. I was out of control. Like a feral animal, I would attack anything or anyone who got too close.

“You don’t scare me… I care about you, and even though I know he’s gone, you have to carry—”

“Shut up,” I growled not wanting to hear him. I didn’t want the words to be said simply because it made the ache in my chest worse. Nothing made it more apparent than having the truth spoken, and I wasn’t ready to face the truth.

“God, Bree. It’s been two fucking weeks,” Jared all but screamed, his temper rising with every word.

“Two weeks, Jared. Do you hear yourself? Two fucking weeks since I lost the person who made me breathe. The person who I lived for.” I sat up in bed throwing the pillow at him. He caught it with one hand, throwing me a dirty look.

“Look, I know it hurts but—”

“What the hell do you know about love, Jared?” I butted in not allowing him to finish his sentence. All he did was stare back at me. We both knew he hadn’t a fucking clue about love—what it entailed, how it made your heart race. How it made your palms sweat, your eyes dilate, how every hair on your body stood when he or she walked in the room.

“One more week, Bree. One more week is all you get before we leave here and you get your shit together.”

“Fuck you,” I spat at him hatefully. I was an adult. I could do whatever I wanted to do. In fact, I would now. As I rifled around the bedroom for clothes, I thought back to the moment we drove away. I should’ve been mad at him. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve made him leave. Instead of being mad, I wasn’t. I was hurt, but I knew why he did it. Didn’t mean it was okay, though.

I could hear the doorbell ring off in the distance. It distracted me for a millisecond. It wasn’t Zerro. He would never come bursting through the door ever again. Voices sounded in the living room. Pulling my sweatpants off, I pulled on a pair of jeans and pushed my feet into my boots.

The voices grew louder until I decided I needed to see what the fuck was going on. My hands gripped the blade in my hand—the one his mother had given him. It was the only thing I had left of him.

I opened my door, and the sound of a voice I knew very well met my ears. I could already picture his whiskey colored eyes peering into my own. His breathtaking smirk, the way his muscles moved with him in an elegant manner. I shot off like a rocket down the hall not even caring how insane I looked. I wouldn’t stop at anything until I felt his hands against my own.

My eyes met his for a fraction of a second, and I had my arms wrapped around him. I panted against his chest, happy tears falling from my eyes.

“Piccolo…” he whispered into my hair while cupping the side of my cheek. I melted into his touch as I sighed in relief. I never thought I would hear him say that again. After ten minutes of standing in the same position, I released him.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m so fucking sorry.” His apology was sincere and as I stared into his eyes, I could see the pain we both shared.

“Where were you?” I questioned right away. If he wasn’t here with me, then he had to be somewhere. There was no excuse.

“I was being held by the FBI.” He shot someone a look, and as I turned to see the direction of said look, my eyes landed on Devon. When did he get here?

“You were with Devon?”

“Yes. Devon is FBI. He was planning to take down Mack. I was being held for a bunch of charges from the past. They had no proof, but they did end up striking a deal.” His eyes twinkled as he smirked.

“What kind of deal?”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a badge. “You’re looking at FBI agent Alzerro King, baby.”

My eyes grew wide as I took a step back. He was an FBI agent. Zerro the Mafia King was playing on the right side of the law.

With everything in me, I jumped on him kissing him with a fierceness I couldn’t contain.

“I love you,” I said softly.

“I love you, too, Piccolo…”