Chapter 7 - The Scars We Hide
The safehouse was a secure bunker on the outskirts of the city. Sophia was asleep in the back bedroom, exhausted from the terror.
In the dimly lit kitchen, Ruby was stitching up a deep gash on Santiago’s shoulder. He had taken a grazing bullet taking down the sniper.
He didn't flinch as the needle pierced his skin. He just watched her.
"You saved her life tonight," he said quietly.
"I couldn't let them take her. Not again," Ruby whispered, tying off the suture. She stepped back, but Santiago caught her wrist.
"Who taught you to throw a knife like that, Elena?"
She flinched at the name. She looked down at his hand gripping hers, then met his gaze. "My father. He wanted a son. He got me. So he turned me into a weapon. That's why I ran. I didn't want to be a killer. I just wanted to be normal."
A single tear slipped down her cheek. "But no matter how far I run, the blood follows me."
Santiago stood up, closing the distance between them. He reached out, his calloused thumb gently wiping the tear from her cheek.
"You are not your father," Santiago said fiercely. "Your father destroyed things. You put them back together. You put her back together."
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Ruby looked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. The barrier between them—boss and maid, Moretti and Romano—crumbled into dust.
Santiago leaned in, his lips crashing down on hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was desperate, bruising, and fueled by years of repressed fury and sudden, blinding need. Ruby kissed him back, her hands tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer, anchoring herself to the only man who truly saw her.
