CHAPTER 3

Chapter 3: The Butcher’s Mercy

"I’ll do anything. Just don’t kill him."

The words felt like ash in my throat. I was on my knees, the silk of my nightgown pooling on the floorboards, looking up at the man who had turned my life into a graveyard. Dante stood by the window, his silhouette cutting a jagged hole in the morning light.

"Anything?" Dante turned. He didn't look triumphant. He looked bored, which was a thousand times worse. "That’s a heavy word for a girl who has nothing left to sell."

"Please," I whispered. My fingers dug into the carpet. "He’s an old man. He’s weak."

"He’s a thief, Bianca. Thieves lose hands. Liars lose tongues." He walked toward me, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He stopped inches away, his shadow falling over me. "But I’m feeling uncharacteristically generous today. I have a gala tonight. The 'Gala of Shadows.' Every snake in the city will be there, waiting to see if I’ve gone soft after the Moretti fire."

He reached down, his fingers hooking under my chin to force my gaze up. His eyes were cold, abyssal. "You will be my devoted woman. You will smile. You will touch me like you crave me. If you miss a single beat—if you let them see the fear—your father dies before the dessert course."

"Just one night?"

"One night to save a man who sold you for a handful of chips." He let go, his lip curling. "Dress is in the closet. Don’t be late."

The Gala was a sea of velvet, diamonds, and the smell of expensive cologne masking the scent of rot. My dress was a deep, bruised purple, so tight I could barely draw a full breath. Dante’s hand was a permanent fixture on the small of my back, his palm burning through the thin fabric.

"Smile, Bianca," he murmured against my ear, his breath smelling of bourbon. "You’re supposed to be in love."

"Look at her," a voice hissed from the crowd.

I turned my head slightly. A group of women in floor-length gowns watched me like vultures circling a dying animal. Sofia was in the center of them, her "Saint Mask" firmly in place.

"It’s true," Sofia whispered, loud enough for the surrounding guests to hear. She dabbed at her eye with a lace handkerchief. "Poor Bianca. She begged Dante to kill Moretti. She told him she couldn't stand the old man's touch for another second. I suppose some girls will do anything to move up the food chain."

The whispers caught fire.

"Gold digger." "Moretti’s blood is on her hands." "Look at how she clings to the Butcher. Disgusting."

I stumbled, my heel catching on the hem of my gown. The world felt tilted, the judgment of the social elite pressing in like a physical weight. I looked at Dante, hoping for a shred of the protection he’d promised, but he was busy clinking glasses with a senator. He didn't even look at me. He was letting them tear me apart.

"I need air," I choked out.

Dante didn't turn. He just tightened his grip on my waist for a second, a silent warning. "Five minutes. If you’re not back, the deal is off."

I fled toward the balcony, the cold night air hitting my skin like a slap. I leaned against the stone railing, my chest heaving. My father’s life depended on a lie I wasn't strong enough to tell.

"It’s a heavy burden, isn't it? Carrying the sins of the men in your life."

I spun around. A man stood in the shadows of the stone archway. He was older, with silver hair and a suit that cost more than my father’s house. He held a glass of clear liquid, his expression unreadable. This was Judge Sterling—the man who decided which criminals lived and which ones went to the chair.

"Who are you?" I wiped a stray tear from my cheek.

"Someone who knows a bird in a cage when he sees one." He stepped into the light. His eyes weren't cruel like Dante's, but they were sharp. They saw too much. "Dante isn't keeping you because of a debt, Bianca. He’s keeping you because you’re the only witness to what he did at the Moretti estate. He’s going to kill you the moment this gala ends."

My heart stopped. "No. He gave me his word."

"Dante Vane doesn't have a word. He has a ledger." Sterling stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I know what he's doing to you. I can get you out. I can get your father out. We have a safe house in Canada ready for both of you."

He reached out, placing a cold hand on my arm.

"But I need something first. Dante keeps a black ledger in his study. It contains the names of every official he’s bought. Bring me that book tonight, and you’re free. Stay here, and you’re just another body in the carpet."

I looked back into the ballroom. Dante was looking for me now, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with a terrifying possessiveness. He spotted me and started walking toward the balcony, his pace slow and inevitable.

"Choose quickly, Bianca," the Judge hissed, slipping back into the shadows. "He's coming."