Chapter 5

But I didn’t die. They pulled me out before the car exploded. My abdominal wound was crudely stitched up.

Before the thread was even tied off, Alexander ordered his men to take me onto the aft deck of his private yacht.

I shivered uncontrollably, blood already seeping through the fresh gauze.

Alexander sat under a parasol on a plush leather sofa.

“She's the one who leaked our whereabouts!” Sophia kicked me in the injured stomach, causing blood to gush out.

A flicker of worry crossed Alexander's eyes, but he quickly concealed it, his face turning icy as he asked, “What evidence do you have?”

Sophia smiled smugly, tossing out a bunch of photos of me meeting with rival families.

My vision was already blurry. “I didn’t… these are photoshopped…”

"The metadata matches!" Sophia interrupted, pulling her hand free and pouting. "Alex, the Commission has seen them. If you don't punish a traitor, the other families will think you are weak. They will think you are protecting a rat just because you slept with her!"

Alexander rubbed his temples.

"She needs to be punished," Sophia insisted, her voice softening into a reasonable, manipulative coo. "But I know you care about old times. So, let's just do a 'Drag Run'. It's traditional, it satisfies the family laws, but it doesn't have to be lethal."

Alexander hesitated. "A Drag Run with fresh stitches? It could kill her."

"Not if we go slow," Sophia lied smoothly, stroking his shoulder. "Just a few minutes at low speed. Just to show the other boats we are enforcing the law. I'll drive. I promise, I’ll just create a little foam. I won't hurt her."

Suddenly, his satellite phone rang. It was the frantic ringtone reserved for the Elders.

He answered it, his face darkening immediately. "What? The shipment in the harbor is under fire? I'm on my way to the comms room."

He stood up, looking at Sophia sternly. "Fine. Do the Drag Run to satisfy the code. But listen to me, Sophia—keep the yacht under 10 knots. If she dies, there will be hell to pay."

"I promise, darling. Go handle business," Sophia smiled like an angel.

Alexander glanced at me one last time before turning and rushing into the cabin.

After he left, bodyguards stepped forward. They tied a thick hemp rope around my wrists, securing the other end to the tow hook of the speedboat.

It was a punishment Cosa Nostra reserved for traitors.

It was usually a slow torture, dragging a traitor through the water to simulate drowning.

But Sophia shot me a look of pure, venomous malice, jumped into the driver's seat, and slammed the throttle all the way down.

VROOOM!

The speedboat shot forward like an arrow.

I was yanked violently off the deck and into the churning wake.

At this speed, water hits you like concrete.

My body smashed against the surface, skipping like a stone. Every impact was a sledgehammer to the chest.

The fresh stitches in my stomach tore open instantly. Saltwater flooded the cavity—a pain so blinding it felt like a thousand knives twisting at once.

"Gah—!" I tried to gasp for air, but a wave slammed into my face, filling my lungs with brine. The suffocation was instant and terrifying.

Sophia wasn't done. She started cutting S-turns, weaving the boat aggressively.

Centrifugal force whipped me back and forth. I tumbled through the wake, consciousness fading in and out. Behind me, the white foam of the sea was stained with a long, trailing ribbon of red.