Chapter 16

• Clara spent the whole morning dodging Dante. She wasn’t ready to face him—not after the way he’d gotten under her skin in his office, with his hand on her throat and that smug look in his eyes. She needed space, time to think, so she kept herself busy staying out of his way. She ate breakfast alone in the huge dining room, the long table stretching out empty in front of her. A few of Dante’s guys were there, hanging around the edges of the room, watching her. They didn’t say anything mean, didn’t even talk to her, but their stares made her skin crawl. It was like they were waiting for her to crack—waiting to see if she’d fall apart under all this.
• She wouldn’t. No way. She’d never give them—or Dante—that satisfaction. But she couldn’t just sit there either. She needed a plan, a way to get out of this trap she’d been shoved into.
• By the time the sun was high, she was wandering through the Costa estate, her sneakers quiet on the shiny floors. She wasn’t just walking—she was mapping it out in her head. Every door, every window, every hallway that might lead outside. She counted the guards too—tall guys in dark suits, standing still like statues, their eyes sharp and ready. She memorized where they were, how they moved, looking for any gap she could slip through. Dante thought he had her locked down, thought he’d won by tying her to him with that stupid blood contract. But Clara wasn’t done yet. This wasn’t going to be her life—not if she could help it. She’d fight until she found a way out.