LOGINBRYNN POVThe doctor enters just as Vex steps out, clipboard in hand, eyes flicking between the monitors and my dazed expression.“Mrs. Maddock,” he begins gently, “you’ve been in a coma for three months. Some memory loss is completely normal after this type of trauma.”He adjusts the IV line and checks my pulse, his calm professionalism a sharp contrast to the storm gathering just beyond the door.Vex returns a moment later, tension radiating off him like heat.“Will it come back?” he demands.The doctor glances between us, voice measured.“Memory recovery varies. It can return gradually, in fragments—or not at all.”Vex’s jaw locks. His fist tightens at his side until the tendons strain.That small, controlled movement says more than words ever could.Silence fills the room, heavy and suffocating. I search their faces for answers—Vex’s desperation, Kade’s caution—but all I find is a blur of pain and familiarity I can’t place.“I’ll give you both some time,” the doctor murmurs, retre
VEX POV I sit motionless in the chair, the same one I’ve occupied for weeks, maybe months—time has lost meaning in this place. The sterile air smells like antiseptic and burnt coffee, and my clothes are still wrinkled from sleeping in them night after night. The quiet hum of machines fills the room. Beep. Pause. Beep. Her heartbeat—steady, but fragile. Every morning, I wait for her to open her eyes. Every night, I tell myself she will tomorrow. When I hear the faint rustle of movement, I think I’m dreaming again. My head snaps up before I can stop it, my body going rigid. Her eyes are open. For a second, I forget how to breathe. Three months of silence, of fear and guilt, hang suspended in the sterile air between us. The sound of her breath. The faint flutter of her pulse on the monitor. The world shrinks until there’s only her. “Brynn.” Her name leaves my lips. Rough, cracked. Too small for the weight it carries. She blinks, disoriented, her gaze drifting over the room bef
BRYNN POV Everything is quiet. Not the kind of quiet that feels empty — this one feels… full. Heavy with warmth and light. The pain is gone. So is the fear. I’m standing somewhere that doesn’t quite exist — a place stitched together from fragments of memory. The sea spreads out in front of me, endless and blue, the same color as Santorini. The air smells like salt and tequila and jasmine. And they’re both here. Vex stands to my right, dressed in black, hands in his pockets, watching the horizon like he’s calculating how to own it. His edges are sharp, defined — danger wrapped in quiet strength. Kade is to my left, leaning against a stone wall, cigarette burning low between his fingers. He’s all shadow and restraint, the kind of calm that hides chaos. For a moment, neither speaks. They just exist — together — in peace. I almost laugh. It’s ridiculous, impossible, and somehow… perfect. “Am I dead?” I ask softly. Vex turns, eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them. “Not yet.” K
BRYNN POV The safe house is quiet. Too quiet. It looks like every other one of Vex’s properties — understated from the outside, fortress on the inside. High walls, steel gate, entry cameras. I should feel safe. I don’t. I step out first, the night air cool against my skin. My heels click against the stone path. I don’t even get to the door. The shot cracks through the air — sharp, close, wrong. For a second, I don’t register that it’s me. Then heat blooms in my stomach. I gasp — more out of shock than pain — looking down as red spreads across the front of my dress. It’s fast. Too fast. Everything slows. Vex is shouting my name. Another shot rings out. Someone returns fire. Voices — Kade? One of Vex’s men? Multiple. Boots on gravel. Orders in Greek. Someone yelling “Down! Down!” but my knees are already giving out. The ground tilts. I hit the stone hard. The pain catches up a second later — white-hot, exploding outward from the wound. It’s hard to breathe. I press my han
BRYNN POV The first thing I register is the headache. Not mine — Vex’s. He’s on his back beside me, one arm flung over his eyes like he’s at war with the sun. The day is too bright for the amount of alcohol he let himself have last night. I can still smell tequila and cologne on his skin. A tiny, very un-mob-boss groan escapes him. I smile. “Good morning, lightweight.” “Don’t,” he mutters without moving. “Everything is loud.” I laugh, rolling onto my side to face him. “Everything is normal. You’re just hungover for the first time in your life.” The arm over his eyes shifts. One dark eye cracks open, studying me. There’s a softness there — the kind that only shows up when he’s tired or right after he’s let himself be vulnerable. “It was worth it,” he says, voice rough. “You were happy.” I prop my head on my hand. “I was.” Memories from last night wash over me — the club, the slow dance, the way he didn’t kill the guy who tried to hit on me, the tacos on the hood of the car.
BRYNN POVMorning light spills through the terrace doors, warm and golden, brushing over tangled sheets and bare skin. The soft crash of waves below the cliffs reminds me it’s our last day in Santorini.Vex is already awake beside me, sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless, staring out over the balcony. His phone rests facedown on the nightstand—rare restraint for him.“You’re awake early,” I murmur, voice still thick with sleep.He glances back, and something in his expression softens. “I’ve got plans.”“Plans?”He stands, stretching lazily. “It’s our last night here. I thought you might want to end it right.”There’s something behind his tone—quiet anticipation, the hint of a smile he’s trying to hide.“Should I be nervous?” I tease.“Maybe.”⸻Hours later, the car winds down the cliff roads toward the city. White walls gleam in the late-afternoon sun, the sea burning gold at the horizon. I watch him in the reflection of the window—one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely







