And then he laughs. It is sharp, and deep and cruel.

I can’t move.

Even when he takes two steps toward me, grabs my face with a strong hand and pushes me against the wall. “I will find him. And I will kill him.”

My breath is faint within me. Then he steps back and his gaze scans over me. I feel undressed, naked, abused.

“Or I could forget about. He could be nothing.” He lifts his shoulder. Then he sticks his finger in the tomato sauce I’ve made for the calzones. Licks it off. “Delicious.”

I will throw the batch out. Then I will run. In my heart, I know Tory is gone, and here, I have nothing.

I will run to the border, through the Gothic line and find Fred.

It is better than living with this—

The Obergruppenfüehrer steps close again, runs the back of his fingers down my face. “You are so beautiful.”

I didn’t see him enter, and thank St. Anthony, the patron saint of miracles because just like that, the Obergruppenfüehrer drops.

The cast iron skillet that hit him is held by…

Fred.

He stands in the shadows, whole, real and very angry, the gold of his eyes in mine.

I launch myself at him, my arms around his neck, and he sweeps me up, drags me away from the brute on the floor, bleeding from the head.

Fred carries me out the kitchen door, into the sunlight, where I see him clearly, see the worry in his eyes. “You’re here.”

He brushes the hair from my face with his strong hands. “Of course I am here. You are my heart, Angel. My heart, my life, belongs to you.”

Then he kisses me. His touch envelopes me even as he closes me in his arms. He is strength and hope and in it I know that I am safe, so I kiss him back, giving myself over to him.

He shouldn’t be here. I know this. This is a terrible mistake for him to come back to me—but while my head knows this, my heart clings to him.

He finally raises his head, breathing hard. “Do you trust me?”

Is the sky blue, the vineyard full of grapes, the sun risen?

He takes my hand. “It’s not far, but we must go now.”

I have no idea where we are going, but he takes me through the grotto, to the far side where the trail leads to a valley, then…

“No, Fred—it is too dangerous.” I pull back because—

“They will harbor us,” he says, drawing me close, his hands on my arms. “It is a place of God. It is safe there.”

I want to believe him. The Carthusian monastery has remained untouched for now, but…

“We can be married.”

Oh. I meet his eyes. They are glossy. “Will you marry me?”