Chapter 8

Vera sprinted, lungs burning, leg tearing open again with every step.

All because of what Carlo said right before hanging up: "You've got ten minutes. Make it back, I'll let you pull the surveillance footage. Prove it."

He knew damn well she couldn't make it—not with her leg busted. He didn't care. This wasn't about proof. It was a setup. Another punishment.

He didn't believe her. Never did.

Gina? Untouchable in his eyes. Even with factory cams, he wouldn't bother to look.

Vera's steps slowed. The pain was blinding now, every breath sharp.

Then—black.

She hit the pavement.

Horns blared. Headlights lit up her face.

Bang—!

The car hit her hard. Pain ripped through her body. She woke with a gasp, blood spilling from her mouth.

She tried calling Carlo.

No answer.

Not once.

Eventually, everything faded. She blacked out.

***

When Vera came to, she caught the doctor's grumbling.

"You're lucky that car was running on fumes—couldn't hit hard enough. Otherwise? Not even God Himself would've saved you. And you—running on a busted leg? Blacking out in the street? Are you trying to get killed or what?"

He muttered while changing her bandages.

Vera just gave a dry smile. No way she was explaining why she ran.

Her phone lit up on the nightstand.

Gina's posts. Post after post from last night—her playing the doting girlfriend with Carlo.

The newest one:

[Caught a lil cold. Carlo freaked—called the doc, made me take meds. Still worried this morning, so he's dragging me to the hospital.]

Vera stared. The screen's glow iced over whatever warmth she had left.

'So that's where he'd been. Holding Gina's hand. No wonder he didn't pick up.'

She let out a soft laugh. Whatever. She was leaving anyway.

Outside the window, Carlo was helping Gina into a car, gentle.

Picture-perfect. Disgustingly sweet.

Yeah. Time to go.

But she had one thing left to take care of.

Hands shaking, she texted:

[Carlo, you promised me a coming-of-age gift once. Said I could pick anything. That still counts?]

She wanted her real parents' emerald-green brooch—stolen after they died, sold off, vanished. Took her years to track it down after the adoption. Now? Sitting in another Don's private stash.

The only thing she cared to take with her.

Carlo texted back one word: [Okay.]

No 'Where are you?'

No 'Are you alright?'

Just 'okay.'

***

The day Carlo set up the deal, Vera got discharged—bandaged up, slumped in a wheelchair.

He showed up, took one look, and scoffed.

"What, this the pity card now?"

Old Vera would've scrambled to explain.

This Vera just said, "Let's go."

At the meeting, Carlo didn't blink. Traded away an entire weapons route to force the other Don's hand.

The weight in her chest finally let up. She smiled—genuine this time.

"Thanks."

She reached for the brooch.

But a hand snatched it first.

"Carlo?" Gina gasped. "You're the buyer Don Lombardo was meeting? Ugh, I've wanted this brooch forever. That Don wouldn't budge! You actually got him to cave? Wait—is this a surprise for me?"

Vera looked at him, desperate.

Carlo hesitated, then gave a soft, smug smile.

"Yeah. It's for you."

Vera stared, eyes flooding.

Crack.

The brooch slammed to the floor. The emerald shattered.

Gina gasped. "Oh no, my hand slipped. Totally my fault."

"No—!" Vera dropped, scrambling for the shards, hands shaking.

Gina knelt like she might help—then drove her heel into Vera's ankle.

The wound split open. Blood poured fast.

Pain washed her out. Vera almost went under.

Gina leaned close, voice low, venom-soft. "Me and Carlo? Same world. Same blood.

"I've got the Chisari Family at my back. What do you got? You're a rat from the gutter who forgot her place.

"Your visa's approved. Take your useless life and get out of this country. Don't ever come back. If you do, I'll bury you—and those little rats at the orphanage.

"Once you leave Montavera, you're dead. Don't contact Carlo again. Got it?"

Vera clutched the bloody shards, watching Carlo walk away, his arm around Gina.

She smiled. Empty. "I'll listen. I don't want anything anymore."

She sent Carlo one last message, snapped the SIM in half, flagged a cab, and headed for the airport.

This time, she was really gone.

No looking back.