ZOE DEAN'S POV
By the time Bull pulled up in front of Helen's Bar, I could already feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. My mind was foggy, my body numb. I wasn't just tired—I was drained. Emotionally, mentally, physically. Everything about being back in Santiago felt heavy, like a punishment I hadn't earned.
The flight back had been hell. Not because of the turbulence or the endless hours in the air, but because my thoughts wouldn't stop circling back to him. Nero.
Was he okay? Was he safe? Had the enemies caught up with him?
Every time I tried to push the questions away, they clawed back into my mind, sharper than before. Benny hadn't helped either—he'd just given me vague, confusing answers that left me more lost than before.
"Ma'am, we're here," Bull said from the front seat.
I looked up, but all I could see was the back of his head. The same man who had once dragged me out of this very bar—rough, unyielding, unmoved by my screaming or the way I had begged him to let me go.
Funny how life comes full circle. It felt like yesterday, yet it had already been a month and a week.
"Thanks," I murmured as I opened the car door and stepped out.
The familiar smell of smoke, alcohol, and cheap perfume hit me like a wave. The neon lights flickered, and the usual crowd was there—men with tattoos, loud laughter, and their girlfriends clinging to them like ornaments. Some were drunk, some were halfway there.
I drew in a deep breath and walked past them. Heads turned. Whispers started. Some faces lit up with recognition; others frowned, as if trying to remember who I was. A few smiled and greeted me, and I managed a faint nod in return.
Everything looked the same… yet somehow, it didn't feel the same.
Maybe it was me. Maybe I wasn't the same girl who had worked double shifts just to pay rent and get through another day. That version of me had been simple—tired, but free. This one? I didn't even know who she was anymore.
I made my way toward the VIP lounge, where Fredda and I used to work side by side. My chest tightened as I pushed the glass door open.
She was there, behind the counter, her golden hair tied up neatly as she poured a drink for a customer. When her eyes met mine, she froze.
For a moment, she didn't move. Her mouth parted, her brown eyes widening in disbelief.
"Zoe?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
I tried to smile, but it came out weak—the kind of smile that says, I'm okay, even when I'm not.
She mumbled something to another bartender, who nodded and took over her customer. Then she tore off her apron and hurried around the counter, her heels clicking against the tiled floor until she reached me.
And then, she hugged me—tight, desperate, like she needed to make sure I was real.
"Oh my God," she breathed, her voice muffled against my neck. "Zoe, I'm so glad you're alright. I was so worried."
I hugged her back, closing my eyes for a moment. God, I'd needed this—someone who cared, someone who wasn't part of Nero's dark, dangerous world.
"I'm fine," I whispered, even though I wasn't sure I believed it.
Fredda pulled back slightly, scanning me from head to toe. "You're really fine?"
I nodded. She searched my face for a few seconds, then pulled me into another brief hug before taking my hand.
"Come on," she said softly. "Let's go somewhere quiet."
She led me through the "Staff Only" door and down the narrow hallway until we reached the small break room — the one where we used to sneak in snacks or call family during long shifts. It smelled faintly of coffee and cleaning supplies.
As soon as we got inside, she turned and hugged me again. "I've missed you."
"I missed you too," I murmured, my throat tightening.
She pulled back and looked at me with worry. "What happened, Zoe? You didn't even call to say you were coming back."
I sighed, lowering my gaze to my hands. "I didn't know I was coming back."
Her brows drew together. "What do you mean? Did he… did he hurt you?"
The question made my stomach twist. Slowly, I shook my head. "No. He didn't."
"Then what happened?" she pressed gently. "You don't look like yourself."
I swallowed hard. "Because I don't feel like myself. Everything's just… a mess. I don't know what's going on anymore. No one will tell me anything. Benny said Nero was handling something — but then he just told me to go back to my life and wait. Wait for Nero to come when 'the time is right.'"
Fredda frowned, confused. "What does that even mean?"
I didn't have an answer. So instead, I told her everything — from the night I was pulled into Nero's world to the danger, the fear, the chaos. The running. The hiding. The moments that felt too real to be anything but love. And the morning after we made love — the morning he left me without just a letter.
By the time I finished, Fredda was silent, staring at me with disbelief and sadness etched across her face.
"I can't believe all that happened to you," she said quietly. "And still… you stayed with him."
Her words stung, mostly because they were true. I had stayed. Even when I knew the danger. Even when every instinct screamed at me to run.
"I know," I whispered, my eyes burning.
"Zoe, you could have died," she said, her voice breaking. "You could have been killed with him. Didn't you think about that? Didn't you think about your life?"
"I did," I said softly. "But I also—" My voice cracked. "I love him."
That silenced her.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The hum of the refrigerator filled the small room, and I found myself staring at my trembling hands.
Finally, Fredda sighed, her tone gentler now. "Zoe… I know you love him. But you have to move on. Forget him. Forget that world. It's not for you. You don't need that kind of chaos — you need peace. That man, that mafia life — it's the opposite of peace."
I looked up, meeting her eyes.
"I think he knew that too," she added quietly. "Maybe that's why he sent you back. Maybe he was trying to protect you in the only way he knew how."
Forget him. Forget Nero. Forget his world, Emily, everything that had happened.
How was I supposed to do that?
It sounded impossible.
But maybe… maybe that was exactly what I needed to do.
Maybe letting go was the only way to survive.