Roman

From the corner of the alley across her street, I watched as Julianna and her partner pulled up in his unmarked dark police sedan. My chest tightened at the sight of her lovely profile, honey hair tied back at the nape of her neck. She laughed at something Espinoza said. My stomach twisted. See, she's happy. It'd only been a month and she'd moved on. You were easy to forget.

She was not. She was branded onto my heart, stained into my soul.

If I was going to die tonight at Dante's hand, then at least I could say that my life had been worth it because she had been mine. At least for a time.

Espinoza placed a hand behind her seat and leaned in. Close. Too close. What was he doing? My stomach clenched when I remembered what Benvolio had said about them. "They're fucking, dude. That's the word on the street. And you know what they say, where there's smoke, there's fire."

Was it true? Was he fucking her? Was he the reason I'd been so easy to forget? How dare he. She was mine. For a second, rage blinded me. I strode out of my hiding spot, determined to rip them apart.

Julianna opened the passenger door and stepped out of the car.

He didn't follow.

I stopped right there at the edge of the sidewalk. He wasn't going in with her. If Julianna looked over right now, she'd see me.

But she didn't. She walked into her building, giving Espinoza a tiny wave once she was inside. I backed into my hiding spot again just before Espinoza could spot me. When we both lost sight of her, he pulled away from the building.

She'd be walking into her apartment right now.

My gaze found the skeleton fire escape, a rickety ladder of rust and spider webs scaling up the side of her building, parts missing. Perhaps I could climb up her building one last time...

I could feel the heaviness of death around me. If I could just…touch her one more time. If I could talk to her…

Don't be stupid, Roman. You came here to make sure she was okay, and she is.The best thing I could do was to leave her alone. She probably wouldn't even spare a thought for me when she read in the papers tomorrow that Roman Tyrell's body was found washed up downriver.

I didn't follow her into her apartment. I slid back into the shadows, walked back to my bike, and prepared myself to meet my fate.