Chapter 5 Salvatore

Her voice hit me harder than any punch I’d ever taken. Soft. Careful. Scared.

And that was what gutted me most, the fear. Because for a split second, I thought she was scared of me. I stepped back, giving her space I didn’t want to give.

“Go,” I said quietly. “Finish your shift.”

She hesitated, eyes flicking up to mine before she forced herself to look away.

“We need to talk,” I added, voice low. “After closing. Don't run away from me again, Mi Corazon. ”

She didn’t argue. Didn’t ask why. Didn’t ask how I was even still breathing after eight years of silence.

She just nodded once and slipped out the door like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

The moment she was gone, the room felt wrong. Too empty. Too quiet. Too full of everything I’d tried to bury.

I dropped into my chair, elbows on my knees, breathing like I’d run a mile. My hands shook, and I hated that. I didn’t shake. Not for anyone. But this wasn’t anyone.

This was Sara. Eight years of wondering. Eight years of imagining every possible reason she left. Eight years of trying to forget a woman I never could.

And now she was here. In my club. In my city. Working for me.

I tried to focus on the books, but the numbers blurred. All I saw was her face, older, tired, but still the same girl who’d wrecked me without even trying. And underneath all of that? Fear. Not of me. Of something else. Something she was still running from. My phone buzzed. Rick.

“Boss?”

“After closing,” I said, voice steady even though nothing inside me was. “Bring the new bartender to my office.”

He paused. “Sara?”

Her name in someone else’s mouth made something sharp twist in my chest.

“Yes,” I said. “Her.”

“Everything okay?”

No. Nothing was okay. Nothing had been okay since the day she disappeared. But I forced the lie out anyway. “Fine. Just do it.”

“Got it.”

I hung up and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. I needed answers. I needed the truth.

I needed to know why she left, why she never called, why she let me think she was dead. And I needed her to know something too.

“Yes, I was hurt,” I muttered into the empty room. “You damn near destroyed me.”

But the worst part? Even after eight years…I still wasn’t over her. Not even close.

Roc showed up about twenty minutes later, filling the doorway like a wall. Broad shoulders, sharp eye, Bruce’s son through and through. He didn’t waste time with greetings; he just tossed a folder onto my desk.

“Update on Juan.”

I opened it, scanning the first page. “Talk.”

“Two of his guys at each club,” Roc said. “Same play. Trying to pull the newer girls out the back. They’re getting bold.”

“Or stupid.”

“Both,” he said with a shrug. “But they’re scared too. They keep talking about that stepsister he’s hunting.”

My jaw tightened. “They mention a name?”

Roc nodded. “Yeah. Sara.”

A cold pulse hit the center of my chest, but I kept my face still. “And?”

“And they swear Juan’s losing patience. He wants her found yesterday.”

I closed the folder slowly. “Make sure the men we caught tonight crawl back to him. I want him to know we’re watching.”

Roc smirked. “Already handled.”

He turned to leave, then paused. “You good, boss?”

No. Not even close.

“Fine,” I said. “Just chasing some of my own ghosts. Keep me updated.”

Roc never asked questions about my personal life, even though he probably knew more about me then I did. He just nodded once and disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone with the one name I never expected to hear again.

Sara. And now she was here and I needed to make sure she stayed this time.