He smelled of rain, tobacco, and the faint, bitter scent of gun oil.

“I am sorry, Lauren,” he said. “For everything.”

“Just make sure they never find us again,” I said.

“They won’t,” he said. “The agreement with the federal prosecutor ensures my family’s location remains classified forever.”

He leaned down and kissed Luca’s forehead gently.

Luca stirred but didn’t wake, his tiny hand twitching against the blanket.

Giovanni looked at me one last time, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, heavy sorrow.

“Goodbye, Lauren,” he said.

“Goodbye, Giovanni,” I said.

He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

I sat back down in the vinyl chair and took Luca’s small hand in mine.

The rain outside began to slow, the heavy downpour turning into a gentle tap against the glass.

The blue light of the television flickered over the white walls, casting soft shadows that no longer looked like threats.

I closed my eyes, listening to the steady, rhythmic beep of my son’s heart.

We were safe.