Chapter 8 8

• I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, willing myself not to cry. The sting behind my eyes threatened to spill over, but I couldn’t wouldn’t let them see. Not Father. Not Lorrenzo. Not when my hatred for both of them was a storm I hadn’t yet learned to leash.
• "Umberto," Father barked, his tone disgusted. "Take the girls to their rooms. Make sure they stay there."
• Umberto sheathed his knife with a soft snick and motioned for us to follow him. I stepped past Father, dragging Alessia with me. Her head was bowed, her hand limp in mine.
• Then we reached it the blood.
• She froze.
• The hardwood floor glistened red. A single severed finger lay abandoned in the middle of the room like a grotesque warning. Raffaele crouched beside it, trembling, clutching his ruined hand, his clothes soaked through with blood. A raw animal sound came from his throat.
• Alessia gagged, her body convulsing.
• "No," I said sharply, pulling her back to me. "Alessia. Look at me."
• Her eyes glassy, tear-filled met mine. A fresh cut split her lower lip. Blood trickled down her chin, soaking into the collar of her nightgown. My fingers gripped hers tighter.
• I’m here. Stay with me. Don’t fall apart not yet.
• She held onto my gaze like it was the only solid thing in a world that had cracked apart.
• Behind us, Father sneered. "Women. They can’t even look at a little blood without fainting."
• I didn’t turn. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of my reaction. But I felt Lorrenzo’s stare burn into my back like a brand before the doors closed behind us.
• We followed Umberto in silence through the halls. Alessia wiped at her mouth, smearing the blood. Her voice was small and vicious. "I hate him. I hate them all."
• "Shh," I whispered, glancing at Umberto. He liked us. Cared, maybe. But he was still Father's man. And that meant our words could become weapons used against us.
• Umberto stopped me as I tried to follow Alessia into her room.
• "No."
• "She needs me tonight." My voice cracked. "I’m not leaving her alone."
• "You heard your father," Umberto said gently, like I was a child having a tantrum.
• "She’s bleeding," I snapped. "I need to help her."
• "It’s nothing that won’t dry on its own. Besides, trouble always brews when the two of you are in the same room. Do you really want to test your father's patience tonight?"
• He nudged me away and closed Alessia’s door, shutting me out.
• "So that’s it?" I asked bitterly. "We’re prisoners now?"
• "You always were." His eyes softened with pity, not kindness. "You just didn’t know it until tonight."
• I took a step back. "A room full of grown men watched a girl get slapped, and no one lifted a finger. That’s your courage? That’s what it means to be a made man?"
• "Your future husband stopped your father," he said, like that made it better.
• "From hitting me," I said. "Not Alessia."
• He smiled, like I was being foolish. "Lorrenzo may rule New York, but here? Chicago belongs to your father. He’s the Consigliere. You’d do well to remember that."
• I shook my head. "You admire Lorrenzo," I said slowly, realization curdling in my stomach. "You watched him maim Raffaele and you admire him."
• "Your cousin’s lucky he only lost a finger," Umberto said with a shrug. "Another man might’ve gone for something more… valuable. Lorrenzo did what any man with pride would’ve done."
• Any man in our world, I thought.
• He patted me on the head like I was a pet. "Go to sleep, Isabella."
• "Will you be guarding my door all night to make sure I don’t sneak out again?"
• "Better get used to it." He smirked. "Now that Lorrenzo’s marked you as his, you’ll never be alone again."
• I slammed the door in his face.
• Guarded.
• What a pretty word for caged.
• Even when Lorrenzo wasn’t here, he’d made sure his claim was loud, clear and permanent. Raffaele’s pinky lying on that floor hadn’t been just punishment. It was a message. A warning.
• A signature.
• I stared down at the ring on my finger. I thought I’d have time before things changed. I thought the wedding would be the beginning of the end.
• But tonight, the war had already begun.
• I didn’t turn off the lights. I was too afraid of what the darkness might bring. Too afraid of what I’d see again.
• The blood.
• The screams.
• The finger.
• And Lorrenzo’s face calm, untouched as he c
• arved my future into flesh.
• But the lights didn’t protect me.
• The nightmares still came.