Chapter 2

On the drive back, the head of our outpost called me.

He asked me to stop by the central medical unit and pick up the casualty report from the latest shootout.

I ended the call.

I sighed. I was trying to make a clean break, and of course the medical unit had to be Elena's territory.

By the time I arrived, the place was packed with people getting their dressings changed.

A few guards from the outer perimeter were talking quietly, but I couldn't help overhearing them.

"The Don had a helicopter fly these sedatives in from Russia. Just for Dr. Costa."

"Yeah. Everyone in the family knows he has a soft spot for her. They look perfect together. She's the real Donna."

I slowed down.

Bitterness rose in my throat before I could stop it.

I'd held the title of Donna for three years, but I'd never once been allowed into the room where the real decisions were made.

Right after we signed the blood contract, I'd asked him to introduce me at a meeting of the elders.

To tell the other gangs who I was.

But this was Dante.

The Mafia Don who held the power of life and death had looked me over like one of his men and shut me down cold.

"Know your place. Don't overstep.

"You're not some street punk fighting over a man. Stop making a scene. That's not how this family operates."

I went cold all over that day.

I never asked again.

The guards nearby were still gossiping about Dante and Elena, not caring who heard.

"Honestly, I bet the Don only married her to use her as a decoy to take the heat. Has anyone ever seen him smile at her?"

"No doubt about it. He's ruthless with everyone except Dr. Costa."

Their voices faded down the hall along with their footsteps.

I stood there, the sharp smell of antiseptic in my nose, and slowly clenched my fists.

Every bullet I'd taken for him, every drop of blood I'd shed, suddenly felt like a cruel joke.

I took a deep breath.

Thank God I had a way out. In three days, none of this would be my problem.

I got the report from the man in charge.

As I passed the second private room, familiar voices drifted through the partly open door.

"Try this. It's a Sicilian specialty. It's really good."

I looked through the crack.

Elena and Dante sat side by side on a sofa. She held a sugar-dusted pastry to his lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Dante hated sweets. Always had.

I'd made him something sweet once. He smashed the bowl and walked out.

But now?

He barely frowned before giving in to Elena's gentle coaxing and opening his mouth. He looked at her as if she could get away with anything.

He swallowed it.

Elena watched him expectantly.

"How is it? Do you like it?"

Dante nodded.

"It's not bad."

I couldn't help smiling bitterly at myself.

All those years I'd fought for my life, and it turned out Dante knew how to bend over backward for a woman after all.

I just never got to see that side of him. Not in three years.

Not once.

But the show wasn't over.

Dante pulled out a tissue and wiped the crumbs from the corner of Elena's mouth as if he'd done it a hundred times before. His voice softened.

"Did last night scare you? Did you sleep okay?"

"I slept fine."

Elena gave him a fragile smile.

"As long as you're here, I feel safe."

Then she seemed to remember something.

"But I thought you weren't supposed to take calls after midnight. Am I causing trouble for you?"

Dante answered without hesitation.

"You're the exception."

Those three words.

They hit me like a knife to the chest, twisting slowly until I couldn't breathe.

It was one thing to suspect it. It was another to hear him say it.

It lasted only a moment.

After that, there was nothing but numbness.

Some bullets kill you if you leave them buried in your flesh. But if you grit your teeth and dig them out, the wound eventually scabs over.

I leaned against the wall for a long time, until my face gave nothing away.

Then I turned and walked out of the building.

Back at the estate, I dragged out a suitcase and started tossing in the things I couldn't leave without.

After three years in that cage, I didn't even have enough belongings to fill a single suitcase.

Night fell.

Dante called on the house line.

"Come downstairs. We're having dinner with my mother tonight."

I answered with a flat "Mm."

When I stepped outside, the armored car was waiting at the foot of the steps. Out of habit, I went around to the passenger side and reached for the door.

But Elena was already sitting there, holding a cup of hot cocoa.

"Good evening, Donna."

She'd spilled a few brown drops on the leather seat. Without thinking, I looked up at Dante.

He was a neat freak. No food or drinks in his car, ever.

Not even for me.

But Dante didn't react, as if this happened every day.

Right. Of course.

I'd almost forgotten. Elena was allowed to break every rule he had.

Elena grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the seat, putting on a show of embarrassment.

"I should sit in the back. I..."

I gave her a calm smile.

"No need. Stay where you are. It's just a seat."

I opened the back door. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the surprise on Dante's face.

I ignored it.

It wasn't like I'd never tried sitting up front before.

But every time, Dante had given me the same cold lecture.

"Know your place. It's just a seat. Don't make a scene."

I stared out at the dark Sicilian night.

There wasn't a shred of the old heartbreak left in me. I was so calm that even I was surprised.

He's right.

It's just a seat.

And he's just a cold-blooded Don.

They're all the same to me now. Trash to be taken out.