𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴᴛʏ - ɴɪɴᴇ

After letting Ezra's death control her for so long, it felt like a whirlwind of fresh air entered and filled her lungs and that a new part of her life was on the track to being completed. But now, as the three people on her team stood trapped in a room with bomb threats, she couldn't help but acknowledge that her dream would forever stay something of imagery in her mind.

As she pressed her warm fingers to the cold wall behind her and let the wet surface seep up what her body wanted to cling to, she inhaled one more time and understood what she needed to do to take charge of the situation.

"Jase—that thing I wanted to tell you?"

"What about it?"

"Well, I'm going to tell you now—"

Before she could finish her sentence, he was back behind the safety of the wall, pressing a firm palm to the softness of her lips, silencing her. His light brown eyes beamed under the false lighting and her heart skyrocketed as she took a look at the one person who made her feel whole—the one person who loved her before she could even think about loving herself.

His breathing tickled her nose as he slowly dropped his hand and stepped closer, pressing her back to the wall and the front of his chest to the front of hers. Dopy strands of his hair skimmed the surface of her forehead as his sunshine-filled smile caressed his dotting features.

"We're not out of this, Francesca," he tucked her hair back, "Don't spoil the ending just yet."

"We might not have a happy ending, Jase."

"Sure, but not because of you," he announced, "The knight saves the princess—isn't that how all of the stories go?"

"I'm not some pathetic princess waiting for you in a tower."

"—and I'm not some insecure knight who can't stand the idea of a woman saving me."

"Then maybe we have to Romeo and Juliet this shit," she grinned.

Throughout the midst of gunfire behind them, penetrating the protective layer of wall behind her back, and the ceiling to make them come out, she focused her mind on the man before her and pretended like they were anywhere else—preferably, as he stated—back in Spain sipping on Mimosas. Sharing a bed and clubbing like they were too young to do so and too old to enjoy it.

Never in her life did she find such solace in structure in another human being until she landed her eyes upon Jase Ramiréz nine months ago when their team was created. Even back then, an undying urge to belong to him rooted in her chest and blossomed into a flower she wasn't ready to pick. Even back then, when she treated him like shit and acted as if his existence was a bane on her own, he never once used fighting words to make her submit to him.

He let her be Francesca, just as she let him be Jase.

Now, standing face to face with the love of her life and death alike, she couldn't be happier. Somewhere in the depths of her heart, she understood that he was never a plant that was meant to be picked but rather one that was shaped out of plastic—one that had love until it died.

"Maybe we should," he concluded for her.

Franki, enamored by him and aware of her surroundings, lifted up to her tippy-toes to at least kiss him one more time before the inevitable escape plan of theirs ended in their permanent departure from one another, felt remorse as the loud sound of a floor caving to the ground stole it away.

Many times in her past she had the opportunity to flee into his arms, to give into her love to him, and now that the moment was presenting itself—now that she had the courage and ability to accept that someone loved her the way she loved him—time was not in their favor.