“Thanks. Any news on Gabi?”

  Sasha nods, his expression stern. “Bianchi texted you. He has her.”

  He lifts my phone, showing me the picture on the screen. My sister, her mascara streaked down her face, her dress torn. Bound to that same chair in the very basement where he made me do such vile things in front of her to save her life.

  I want to kill him, cut him a hundred times, and watch the life slowly bleed from his worthless body. “He wants me.”

  Sasha’s eyes narrow. “They took her. Why not just take you if that’s what he wants?”

  I inhale a deep breath that hurts a lot. “Because he wants me to come to him willingly. As his wife.”

  “How is it willing when he took Miss Gabriella?” Lorenzo asks on a growl.

  I glance at the bear of a man, his face twisted in rage. This is the second time he’s lost Gabriella to Enrique, and the pain is written into every hard line of his face.

  “He doesn’t care for semantics, only mind games.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asks.

  “I’m going to give him what he wants.”

  My gaze shifts to Sasha, but he immediately looks away from me before pushing to his feet. “Adelina, a word?”

  He walks straight past me, and I know I’m about to have a fight. I follow him out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the office. Once inside, he slams the door and pushes me up against it. A breath hisses through my teeth as my abused body rebels.

  “We are going to formulate a plan. One that does not involve Enrique Bianchi getting anywhere near you.”

  “I have a plan, but I have to go to him.”

  Sasha’s eyes slam shut, his brows tugging together tightly. “No,” he growls.

  “Sasha—”

  “This almost cost us everything, malyshka.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t outrun him. I don’t want to.”

  When he opens his eyes, I see the iron clad shutters that have dropped over his emotions.

  “I tried to take him alone last time. It was stupid. I wasn’t ready.”

  His silence is worse than his objections.

  “I have a plan. I’m going to do to him what we planned to do to you. But you’re going to help me.”

  “You’re going to pretend you’re in love with him?” he says on an incredulous snort.

  I narrow my eyes. “I never pretended with you and no. Enrique would never believe I was in love with him. However, he believed that I would seek a power alliance with him, a marriage of bloodlines.” Sasha’s fingers dig into my hips harder, his jaw ticcing slightly. “I’ll go back to him, and tell him I killed you,” I say in a rush before Sasha explodes. “Have Una contact me through Enrique, threaten me. Make it look real.”

  “And then what?”

  “I go to Enrique, play the good, dutiful wife, and we wait for the perfect moment. Then you kill him.”

  “It could take weeks.”

  “I know.”

  He closes the tiny space between us until his breaths rush over my lips. “Weeks of you pretending, letting him touch you. Fuck you,” he spits.

  I inwardly flinch at the harsh words and the images they conjure. I shut it down quickly, refusing to venture down that path. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m caught between love and loyalty and simple survival at this point because this is no longer about revenge. I’ve accepted Sasha’s part in Daddy’s death, but really, he was just a tool, a weapon operated by a master, and the man paying for that privilege was Enrique. That man has picked my life apart, and I refuse to be his pawn anymore. I refuse to let my sister be his victim. What else can I do?

  “I won’t let him do anything.”

  He drops his head forward on a hard breath. “You know as well as I do that he doesn’t care if you’re willing.”

  “Sasha, he has Gabi! I’m running out of options here. We don’t have time to debate this.”

  “It’s not up for debate,” he almost growls.

  “What do you suggest?”

  His silence is the only answer I get.

  “You won’t find him, not before he kills Gabi. Her life is tied to mine right now. You know it, I know it. I once asked you to advise me from a strategic standpoint.” More silence, and I see the trace of fear breaking through that stony veneer. Reaching up, I cup his cheek and pull his gaze to mine. “This isn’t the same as before, Sasha. I’m not looking for revenge. I know you’ll deliver all the retribution he’s due. I just want my sister back, alive. And then, I want you. That’s it. I’m not sacrificing you. I’m doing what I have to so we can have a future.” I’m practically begging because I don’t want to lose him.

  We have crossed what feels like an ocean of obstacles, and yet we’re still here. I still love him. He still loves me, and I know I can’t do this without him. Yet I’m not asking for permission. If he asks me to choose between him and Gabriella, then he simply isn’t the man I think he is.

  “I’ve already lost my father. I won’t lose my sister.” I know it’s a low blow, but I’m desperate.

  His pain-filled eyes lift to mine before a long breath slips past his lips. “I can’t protect you in there, Adelina.”

  I stroke his face, trying to reassure him. “I survived once, didn’t I?”

  He finally steps back, and my hand falls to my side. He’s only a foot away, but it feels like a chasm opens up between us. “You need to go to him as soon as possible. He’ll kill Gabriella if you waste time.”

  I hate the cold distance in his voice, but there’s nothing more I can do.

  Stepping forward, I grab his shirt and slam my lips over his. For a moment, he’s frozen, but he slowly comes to life, winding his arms around my waist and pulling me close. My ribs scream in protest, but I don’t care because I need this: his support, his love. Tearing away from me, he touches his forehead to mine, rapid breaths blowing over my lips.

  “I love you,” I breathe, the true depth of my feelings stealing all the air from my lungs.

  There’s always been so many things between us, a thousand reasons why we couldn’t be together, and yet, now, as I’m leaving him once again, I realize just how inevitable Sasha and I always were. Fate brought us together in the cruelest of ways, but I think we gave each other a reason. To keep going. To keep fighting.

  His fingers stroke over my cheek, his soft touch so at odds with his rough, calloused hands. “I love you, malyshka.”

  I close my eyes, fighting the telltale prickle of tears before I slip out from between him and the door. With a twist of the knob, I’m gone. As I walk down the corridor toward my room, my heart feels like it’s cracking. By the time I’ve packed a bag, I manage to get a handle on my emotions. This isn’t about me or even Sasha or Enrique. I have to get my sister back.

  I don’t see Sasha as I make my way through the house and outside. Lorenzo waits out front, leaning against a black SUV. A cigarette hangs between his lips, the ash burning and falling to the floor. The quiet out here is almost unsettling as though the world is holding a moment’s silence as I walk to my own funeral. Wordlessly, I approach the car, and Lorenzo walks over to me, taking the small bag from my hand. Sad eyes meet mine, and he opens his mouth to speak.

  I hold up my hand. “Please don’t try and talk me out of this, Lorenzo.”

  “I just wanted to say that your father would be proud of the woman you’ve become.”

  A lump form’s in my throat, and an ache takes up residence behind my already bettered ribs. “Thank you,” I whisper before hurrying past him to the car.

  Sasha never comes outside, but he doesn’t need to. We’ve said our goodbyes, made our promises. All that’s left now is action.

  The car pulls away, and we wind down the hillside, away from my childhood home. Brilliant sunshine lights a clear blue sky, and everything seems a little too cheery, too bright. The world keeps turning, existing, and it seems unfair given that my entire world feels like a constant war zone. I almost resent the sunshine. There should be gray rolling clouds and rain. Everyone else should share just a little of my misery.

  As we drive, Lorenzo tightens his grip on the steering wheel, over and over until his knuckles turn white. We crawl along the dusty, winding roads, but no matter how slow he drives, he can’t stop this. My stomach knots, sickness creeping up my throat with each passing minute. Finally, Enrique’s house comes into view. The sun reflects off the glass walls, glinting and blinding me. Lorenzo slows the car as we approach the gates. I count five men, all armed with rifles as they approach the car. One uses a mirror to sweep the underside of the vehicle, and when he’s satisfied, the tall metal gates slowly glide open.

  Inside, it’s like something out of a creepy reality TV show, where the grass is so perfect, it doesn’t even look real, and the white gravel driveway is immaculate. I hate it. I hate everything about this place.

  Soul-deep fear suddenly punches me in the gut as I’m faced with going into that house again. I tighten my fists until nails bite into my palms with a sting.

  Beyond the windshield, Enrique’s men descend the steps from the front of the house and linger in front of the car.

  “Are you okay, Miss Adelina?” Lorenzo asks quietly.

  I nod and open the door, slowly lowering myself to the ground. As I approach the waiting men, the front door opens, and Enrique steps out into the bright sunshine wearing a beige suit and aviators. As if I need any more reason to hate him.

  A smug smile dances over his lips as he slowly takes the few steps one at a time. I take a resigned step forward, but one of his men stops me. Enrique removes his sunglasses and stares at me while the guard pats me down, his hands lingering in places they shouldn’t. My husband’s smile only deepens.

  “Darling,” he crooks his finger, beckoning me forward.

  My legs feel like lead as I walk closer. I know better than to deny him his games. He seems even more repulsive than before. “You’ve returned.”

  I tilt my chin up and square my shoulders. “Here I am.” I spread my hands wide, and his grin falters for a moment. It’s then that I see what lingers beneath the mockery—he’s angry, and that never bodes well. “Where is Gabriella?”

  He ignores me and instead slides his hand into his jacket pocket before taking my hand. I try to snatch it away, but he grips my wrist so hard that I can almost feel the structures bowing. I clench my teeth hard, and he simply smiles sadistically as he slides my engagement and wedding band onto my finger. “That’s better.”

  I snatch my hand away. “Where is Gabriella?” I repeat.

  He rolls his eyes dramatically. “She is safe, of course.” Turning away, he walks back up the steps and inside the house.

  I follow him, but he pauses when he reaches the threshold, glancing over his shoulder.

  “You may go.”

  He waves a hand toward Lorenzo, who lingers behind me. I can sense the older man bristling at the dismissal.

  “No, he needs to take Gabriella home.”

  “Gabriella will be staying a while.” Enrique continues walking.

  I stop. “No, I came here in exchange for her.”

  Enrique has turned and is in front of me in a heartbeat. His hand clamps around my throat, and he squeezes.

  “When did I agree to such terms, dear wife?” He tilts his head, bringing his ear near my lips. “What’s that? Oh, I didn’t. Gabriella stays.” He releases me.

  “Then I go,” I say.

  He sighs as though bored of this entire conversation. I blink and have a gun in my face. Enrique grits his teeth, looking almost maniacal as his finger lingers over the trigger.

  “That’s not your decision to make,” he spits the words. His gaze turns to Lorenzo over my shoulder.

  I can’t see the old man’s expression, but I imagine he’s seething with rage.

  “As I said, you may leave.” Enrique switches from crazed to calm in an instant.

  I’d forgotten the turmoil of trying to keep up with his ever-changing moods. That, in itself, is a torturous mind game because I never know which version of him will appear. It’s near impossible to predict with zero rhyme or reason. I can see why he’s amassed as much power as he has. Men fear him because insanity cannot be reasoned with.

  I follow Enrique through the house, and deja vu creeps over me as I walk the exact same route I did the very first day I came here. Only this time, I have his ring on my finger.

  As soon as we’re in his office, I can hardly breathe. He can sense my fear like a shark smells blood in the water. Walking to his desk, he takes a seat. Arrogance pours off him, and I hate it.

  I inhale a shaky breath and steel myself. The only way I’m going to survive this if I control the situation. I will not be a victim this time around. My shoulders square, and I stride toward him before slamming my palms down on the desk.

  “You blew up my family’s home.”

  He leans back in his chair and waves a hand through the air. “So dramatic. It was only the front and back doors.”

  “You took my sister! Again. I thought we were past this.”

  He cocks a brow. “I warned you.”

  “I was coming here this morning. I was always going to. You didn’t need to take Gabriella!”

  “Were you? I guess we’ll never know since you had a little encouragement.” He leans toward me, bracing his elbows on the desk in front of him. “You tried to fuck me over, Adelina.”

  “I needed time. You think killing Sasha Ivanov is easy?”

  His eyes pinch. “So, he’s dead?”

  “Yes.”

  A small smile pulls at the corner of his lip. “You’ve become so good at lying that I may actually believe you.”

  I release a hard breath. “He killed my father.” His expression doesn’t move. “Fine. Don’t believe me. I don’t care. I’m here now. Just...release Gabriella.”

  “Of course.” He pushes to his feet and a shiver of unease tears over my skin.

  Wordlessly, he walks to the door and leaves. I follow him, that sense of unease growing stronger and more unsettling. My stomach bottoms out when he leads me into the kitchen. I know exactly where we’re going. At the back of his huge kitchen is an inconspicuous looking pantry door, but it houses something far more sinister. For me, at least, anyway.

  He opens the pantry door, and on the back wall, amongst the shelves is a hidden panel, almost invisible if I didn’t already know it was there. This is where he kept Gabriella the last time he took her. He brought me down here to mock us both, and I played right into his twisted games, doing vile things in front of her, all in a bid to convince them both that I truly wanted to marry him. I still feel sick thinking about it. Enrique pushes that panel open, revealing the rustic stone steps beyond. The house is clinical and modern, and yet this wine cellar feels like something out of a haunted house.

  Cool air greets me the second my foot hits the top step. A single light bulb buzzes in the stairwell, and I wonder if he deliberately tries to make this creepy.

  This time, when I reach the wine cellar, I know what to expect. The scene is one I’ve witnessed before. My sister, in the center of the rustic-looking basement, tied to a chair. Wall-to-ceiling wine racks flank her on each side, and there’s absolutely no natural light.

  At least she looks relatively unharmed. Her cheeks are streaked with mascara, and her hair is a mess, but she looks untouched. A strip of duct tape covers her mouth. I notice the distinct lack of guards down here. It’s just the three of us, and that bothers me.

  Enrique circles her, and each step he takes sets me on edge. My sister’s eyes meet mine, strangely calm. She trusts me, I realize, and that breaks me a little because I’m every bit as helpless against him as she is. My bindings aren’t of rope, but a tiny gold band that sits on my finger.

  “Untie her,” I snap.

  Enrique laughs. “Ah, dear wife. You think you’re so clever. Plotting against me, trying to take what you have no right to.” Just like he did with me.

  “I did what we agreed to. This was not it!” I point at Gabi.

  He slowly approaches me, the way a stalking tiger creeps up on a gazelle. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, giving the perception of calm. I know differently. He stops in front of me and lashes out, fingers wrapping around my jaw so hard that my teeth cut against the inside of my cheek. The mask slips, and his anger breaks through, bubbling to the surface.

  Breath hisses through his teeth. “I told you what would happen if you betrayed me, principessa. It seems you don’t take me seriously.” He tilts his head to the side, dragging his eyes over me like a cheap whore he just paid for. “Tsk, tsk, that’s a poor way to start a marriage.” A disturbing grin twists his face, and a very real fear skirts the length of my spine. He almost launches me away from him, making me stumble. “I will strip you of everything, Adelina, until I am all you have. By the time I’m done, I’ll be your own personal God.”

  All you have. His retreating footsteps turn my blood cold because I can sense the shift in the room. It feels like the slow, incremental falling of an ax, the inevitability of fate accumulating. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.