LOGINI looked at the nurse whose eyes were darting from left to right. She didn't answer the question, as if confused on what to say. I frowned. "Are you new?"The nurse sighed, tucking a strand of her brunette hair behind her ear. "Is it obvious? It's my second week and I'm supposed to call the doctor and your question kinda threw me off. Please don't report me."“Hmm, is it that you don't want to tell me or…”“I just don't think it's something you should hear now. Emotional distress. Mental health…”I gave her a look she bit her lips, still standing there rather than doing the obvious.I tried to adjust my position in the bed, pushing myself up slightly with my good arm. Pain exploded through my left shoulder. I grunted, collapsing back against the pillows."Don't move," the nurse said quickly, moving closer. "You'll tear the stitches."I breathed through the pain, waiting for it to settle from screaming to just aching. My right hand moved instinctively to my throat, seeking comfort in.
“Mom.”My voice came out small. Like I was five again.She smiled.Oh, my baby.I ran to her.Or maybe I didn’t move at all one second she was far, the next she was right there, holding my face, her thumbs brushing away my tears.“I missed you,” I sobbed.“I know.”"I'm sorry," I said, or tried to say. "I'm so sorry I left you. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I chose him over you and you died alone and I should have stayed I should have—"Shh. Her fingers moved through my hair, gentle, the way she used to do when I was small and frightened of thunderstorms. 'It wasn't your fault.'"It was. I left. I chose—"'You were sixteen. You were a child who wanted to be wanted.' She pulled me closer, cradling my head against her shoulder the way she had when I was small. 'I never blamed you, Celeste. Not for a moment. Not even at the end.'"But Liora said—"'Liora was fourteen and terrified and needed someone to blame.' Her hand kept moving through my hair, weaving patterns I remembered from
The second bullet punched through the windshield.My ears rang before I even understood what had happened.The driver's head snapped forward, and something warm sprayed across my face, my chest, the windshield.Blood.So much blood.“Oh my God—”The car swerved violently. My lips trembled in fear, anxiety creeping through my body. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.“Don’t look at him.” Dante’s voice cut through my mind. “Celeste, don’t you dare look at him.”“I already did,” I whispered, my hands shaking as I wiped my face, only smearing more of it. “Dante—he’s—he’s—”“Dead.” Flat. “I need you to listen to me.” Dante's voice cut through the ringing in my ears. He was still pressed against me, his body shielding mine, but his hand shot forward to grab the wheel. "Take it!""What?""The wheel! Now!"He's insane. He's completely insane."I can't drive!" The words came out as a shriek. “Dante, I can’t–”"You don't need to drive!" He shoved the dead driver's body aside—don't look at the body
The car door closed behind me making me flinch. It sounded like a door closing against whatever silver lining I amy have had. But knowing my luck, I doubt there would ever be a silver lining. The leather seats of the car was thick, but cool against my skin. With tinted windows up and the faint smell of expensive cologne and gun oil, maybe, or just the scent of the gun. Or maybe my brain is bringing that smell to my nose because of the gun I sighted in the cup holster. Dante slid in beside me, and the driver pulled away from the convent without a word.I watched Sacred Mercy disappear through the rear window. Six years of my life reduced to a shrinking stone building in the distance, getting smaller and smaller until it was just another part of Prague's ancient skyline.Gone."Last chance to run, little nun."Dante's voice pulled my attention back to the interior of the car. He was watching me with that same unreadable expression, one arm stretched along the back of the seat, finge
The water from the shower had gone cold now. I let it flow down my naked body, as if it could wash away my sins.Standing here longer than expected may prevent the inevitable.But my legs wouldn't move. They felt rooted to the tile floor, anchored by the weight of everything that had just happened. Margaret's words kept circling in my head like vultures. ‘When have you ever been free? When have you ever just... been?’I pressed my forehead against the cold tile wall and tried to breathe.A sharp knock on the bathroom door made me jump."Hurry up in there." It was one of the younger sisters, her voice muffled through the wood. "Mother Superior says you have fifteen minutes or she's sending you down in a towel."I straightened, turning off the water with shaking hands.Fifteen minutes.I stepped out of the shower and dried myself mechanically, watching water drip onto the floor in small puddles that looked like tears. My reflection in the foggy mirror was a stranger—wet hair plastered
Watching Mother Superior being put to her place brought a strange kind of satisfaction to my already grieving heart. Mother Superior's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. The guards exchanged glances. Even Margaret looked stunned, her rehearsed composure cracking just slightly around the edges.I hung there in the chains, not quite believing what I'd just heard."Release her?" Mother Superior repeated, her voice tight. "Mr. Salvatore, I don't think you understand the situation—""I understand perfectly." Dante's tone was glacial. "You have something that belongs to me. I want it back. Now."Mother Superior's jaw clenched. For a moment I thought she might refuse, might pull rank or invoke some rule about convent jurisdiction. But then her eyes flicked to the two guards flanking Dante, to the way his hand rested casually near his jacket where I knew a gun must be hidden, and something in her expression shifted.She turne
Beatrice was right. I am not holy, neither am I a martyr. I told myself that. I believed I was.But come to think of it, if it was Margaret in these shoes would I have cared? Or would I have acted just like her. Hidden, ashamed, looking away and never meeting her eyes.No. I shook my head as I was
Dante's POV "The death of Mr. Armani was not taken lightly by House Nocturne. They believe you did it out of greed for their eastern territories," Luca said, his voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts. I didn't look up from the glass in my hand. Whiskey. Always whiskey these days. The amb
He froze for a split second, his eyebrow arching in surprise, like he'd expected whimpers, tears of being forced to do what she didn't want. But I was not what he was expecting. Then that smirk returned, slower this time. "Wow, you surprise me every single time, palomita. All this... caused by the
"Or are you going to delay that too, Miss I-am-not-scared-of-death but her body is shaking from the thought that she might die tonight." He mocked. I bit my lower lip, I hate him. I hate that smirk on his handsome face, I hate his tone. I hate everything about him. And with that hate in my eye







