Grace turned around and froze.
Her eyes widened as the gun was aimed directly at her.
But instead of panicking, she closed her eyes and took slow, steady breaths, trying to center herself.
Just then, a knock came through the door.
Luca's grip on the gun tightened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the door.
Grace glanced at the door, then raised her hands, her voice shaky.
"I know you don't trust anyone," she said, her eyes meeting his despite the fear flickering in them. "But you're badly hurt. And Ptr. Francis—"
Luca's hand moved swiftly, loading the gun with a practiced click, and pointed it at her once more.
"I don't think you understand," he said.
It was cold—like the tone he used with his enemies.
There was no room for sympathy.
Before she could respond, he snapped. "Hide me. Now. Quick."
Grace swallowed hard, fear tightening her throat, but she nodded.
"This way," her voice trembled as she turned toward a side door beside the altar.
Luca followed, gun steady in his hand. His vision swam with dizziness, but his eyes never stopped scanning the shadows.
He couldn't afford to miss anything.
Grace's hand trembled as she pushed open a door.
Inside was a cramped room, filled with dusty shelves and cleaning supplies.
"It's the only space here," she said.
It was barely big enough for one person, let alone two.
Grace must've sensed the awkwardness of their situation, because she quickly added:
"I'll stay and buy you time."
Luca's eyes flicked to her, and a silent approval flashed through his mind.
'That's smart.'
Just then, the knock became a bang, startling Grace.
The banging grew louder, making her step back until she almost lost her balance.
Luca reached out instinctively. He grabbed her arm to steady her.
When she glanced up at him, her face was pale, eyes wide, and her breath coming in shallow gasps.
Her fear was obvious.
But Luca noticed something different.
It wasn't just the sound of the pounding at the door that had her trembling.
It was the way her entire frame seemed to collapse.
The tightness in her jaw, the way her hands twisted the hem of her dress—
'Something else is making her fall apart.'
Luca glanced at the door, knowing it was only a matter of time before they broke in.
'She can't handle them like this.'
Quickly, he shoved her inside the small room, following close behind.
He barely squeezed in before Valenti's men crashed through the door.
"Luca, are you in here?"
One of them taunted, his voice loud and mocking.
Luca stood still, every muscle tensed.
'They can't know.'
He glanced at Grace.
Her eyes were squeezed shut, her breaths shaky and uneven.
Her hands pressed against his chest, almost desperately, as if she were trying to find some sort of anchor, some strength to hold on to.
It was strange.
Her touch.
Luca wasn't used to anyone touching him without his permission.
But in that moment, he didn't mind.
He didn't have the energy to push her away, even though her head was already leaning against him.
'I just don't have a choice,' Luca told himself.
His eyes closed as he tried to focus on resting while they're hidden, even just for a little while.
'If I have to fight them off, I need all the strength I can get.'
But with Grace so close, their bodies nearly touching, their breaths barely half a foot apart, his mind wandered.
He couldn't ignore the warmth of her skin against his and the faint scent that lingered around her.
'She even smells heavenly,' he thought, his mind slipping for a moment.
The adrenaline that had numbed the pain in his side was starting to wear off.
But her scent—soft and sweet—was like a healing balm.
It eased the tension in his muscles and made him feel strangely relaxed, even with death at their door.
He quickly shook it off.
'Focus, Luca,' he ordered himself. 'You can't afford to lose focus.'
As he centered himself, the sound of footsteps outside grew louder and closer.
His heart rate quickened.
Without wasting a second, he reached for his gun, his grip steady as he readied it.
Luca took a quick glance at Grace, wondering if she was okay and if she could face whatever was ahead of them now.
To his surprise, her hands weren't on his chest anymore.
They were pressed against his wound, her palms soaking in his blood.
It was splattered across the white fabric of her dress, dark and stark against the material.
Her face was scrunched in concern, a mix of worry and care that took him off guard.
For a moment, he was stunned.
He couldn't recall a single time someone had touched him like this—firm but gentle, full of concern.
It was something he didn't know how to respond to.
But as he stared at her, his pulse throbbed painfully in his ears.
A dizziness swept over him, like the world was spinning too fast.
He blinked, trying to focus, but his body felt heavy, as if he were sinking.
'What's happening to me?'
It was as if she could hear his thoughts. Grace leaned closer, her voice soft but filled with concern.
"I think you're losing too much blood."
Luca's mind flashed back to his trek from the main road through the fields.
Four or five kilometers, maybe more.
If it weren't for his stamina and high pain tolerance, he knew he would've collapsed long before now.
'No. Not now.'
He inhaled deeply, trying to move in the cramped space for extra air.
But his weakened body betrayed him.
His muscles gave out, and he crumpled to the floor, knocking over cleaning supplies.
And Grace.
Luca's eyes immediately shot to her.
She was also staring at him with wide, shocked eyes.
They both knew what it meant.
'We're exposed!'