LOGINElena Marchetti dies at twenty-six. A hand closes around her throat. Freezing harbor water fills her lungs. The man who should've saved her stands on the dock, just a few seconds too late. Then she wakes up. Sixteen again. Same house, same family, same future waiting to kill her all over. The Marchettis run one of the city's most dangerous crime families, and their power comes from an old leather ledger , a book that records every debt, marriage, and death like it's already decided. Elena's name is inside it. So is the day she dies. She's got ten years now to change that. The ledger belongs to Vittoria Marchetti, the matriarch who ordered Elena's death the first time and believes she's protecting the family by controlling its future. Her nephew Renzo, the one who actually did the killing, is already circling, waiting for another chance. Then there's Matteo — the son who should've inherited everything, until one mistake cost him his father's trust and his belief he's worth saving. He doesn't know Elena remembers his hands on her while she died, her name breaking in his voice as the water took her. She's carried that memory in a sixteen-year-old's body for months. He doesn't trust her. But something about her makes him want to try anyway. Elena has one real choice: trust the man who let her die once, or walk the same road and see if it kills her twice. Every move she makes to save herself puts someone else in danger instead. She's done letting others write her ending. She's going to rewrite it herself -- even if it means burning down everything her family has ever believed in.
View MoreWe tell Sal everything the next morning, gathered around his hospital bed for what the doctors have finally agreed will be his last week there before he's allowed home.He listens in silence, his face growing graver with every new revelation — Vittoria's release, the binding ritual, Elena Vane, Giulia's hidden bloodline, the full moon deadline drawing closer with each passing day."You're all insane," he says finally, when Matteo finishes. "You understand that. Every single one of you, walking willingly toward something none of you understand, based on the words of a woman who's spent fifty-eight years lying for a living.""We don't have another option," I say. "Matteo's name is already written. If we do nothing—""If you do nothing, you buy time," Sal snaps, more forceful than I've heard him since before the shooting. "Time to actually understand what you're agreeing to, instead of racing toward a ritual because a full moon happens to be convenient.""Sal—""No, listen to me." He str
I find her in the kitchen again, three nights later, exactly where I always seem to find her when something's wrong."You've been avoiding me," I say, sitting across from her without waiting for an invitation.Giulia doesn't look up from the bread dough she's kneading, though her hands slow noticeably. "I've been busy. This house doesn't run itself, especially not with half the family still recovering.""Giulia.""Elena, please.""I saw you at the window," I say quietly. "Two nights ago, when we came back from the churchyard. You looked like you'd seen a ghost."Her hands are finally still completely. Flour dusts her wrists, and for a long moment she just stares down at the dough like it might offer her an escape route if she looks hard enough."I have something to tell you," she says finally, her voice small. "I should have told you weeks ago. I've been a coward about it, and I'm sorry."My stomach tightens. "Tell me now."She wipes her hands on her apron, sits down across from me, a
I stare at the words until they blur.*Elena Vane.*"That's not possible," I whisper, though I've said that sentence so many times in the past week it barely means anything anymore. "My parents were Marchetti. My whole life, in both lifetimes, I've been a Marchetti.""Your father may have believed that too," Vittoria says quietly, stepping closer, studying the ink with something almost like fascination. "Blood doesn't always follow the name a person carries, Elena. It follows the line it actually came from.""Explain it," Matteo says, his voice tight, his hand not leaving mine. "Now. All of it."Vittoria's eyes move to Cassia, a silent question passing between two women who, until tonight, considered each other enemies across two centuries of buried history."There's only one way this makes sense," Cassia says slowly, working through it out loud. "If somewhere back along your father's line, a Vane married into the Marchetti family and the connection was hidden. Deliberately, probably.
Nobody speaks for a long moment. The wind keeps turning the pages of the little book on its own, faster now, like something inside it is growing impatient with all of us."No," Dante says finally, stepping fully into the churchyard, putting himself between Vittoria and the rest of us. "Absolutely not. We are not discussing rituals with the woman who ordered Elena's murder.""I understand your anger," Vittoria says calmly. "I don't expect it to fade quickly. But anger won't save Matteo if the pattern repeats itself the way it has every generation before this one.""You don't get to use fear as leverage," Matteo says, his voice shaking with barely controlled fury. "Not after everything. Not after Renzo. Not after Isabella nearly died in that dining hall because of you.""I'm not asking you to forgive me," Vittoria says. "I'm asking you to survive."Cassia, who has been silent since Vittoria mentioned her mother, finally looks up. Her eyes are red, but her voice comes out steady. "How do






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