Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I sniffled, searching her face for some kind of lie or deception. Except there was nothing but truth and determination in her steady gaze. Unwavering support that I never expected.
Why did Guilia care so much?
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I asked, doubt creeping me. I was scared to trust another Salvatore. She may be different from her brothers, but she was their blood, after all.
Something in me wanted to believe her. Something else remembered that I had wanted to believe Adrian once, too.
“He’s your brother,” I said carefully. “Shouldn’t you be on his side?”
“I am on his side. But I’m also on yours. Men in our world think they can possess us and use us to their advantage. We need to start proving them wrong. We deserve better.”
Oh…
I could see her truth now.
She saw herself in me.
Arranged to be married to a man she barely knew.
She lived the same life, breathed the same suffocating air as me.
Guilia was as much of a pawn as I had been.
“And you want me to do that? To be the catalyst of this change?”
“I think you can do a lot of things with that rage and fire in your heart,” she said, her eyebrow raising as if to challenge me.
A silence settled between us.
“Now, will you please eat something?” she urged, pushing the plate of cupcakes toward me. “You need your strength. I made these cupcakes myself, hoping they would tempt you into eating something. They’re chocolate with salted caramel filling.” She hesitated, frowning slightly. “Though now I’m not sure if this is the best option for you to have on an empty stomach.”
She tried to take it away, her brows furrowing with concern. “Let me ask Elena to make you some eggs and avocado toast.”
Some stubborn, hollow part of me wanted to refuse—wanted to refuse everything, wanted to go on disappearing. To become that forgotten ghost Guilia spoke of.
Maybe it was better that way. Maybe… just maybe, it would cause less pain. Less heartache.
But then… my soul would remain as broken as it was now.
Something shifted inside me. A spark of defiance, small but fierce.
I remembered Lucia’s words from before. Words I had forgotten until now.
I was a Morelli princess… and now I was a Salvatore queen.
And queens were not owned.
They were worshipped.
My lungs clenched. I would not be anyone’s pawn.
I reached for the plate, snatching a cupcake before Guilia could take it away. “Thank you. I’ll have one while Elena makes me something to eat.”
I took a bite, savoring the godly sweetness. “And thank you for not judging me.”
“I’ve always liked you, Serafina,” Giulia said simply. Her expression softened and she took my hand, squeezing it gently. “And I’ve always thought you were too good for my brother. Either of them, actually.”
It didn’t matter if she believed I was too good for either of them. It didn’t matter if I was collateral damage between the two brothers.
No…
Defiance coiled in my chest, pulsing through me like a second heartbeat, burning through my veins like venom, hot and reckless. Unrelenting. Untamed.
Adrian might have won this battle, but the war was far from over.
And for the first time since he’d shattered my world, I believed I might just survive it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Adrian
“They broke your fingers,” I said, my voice echoing in the damp alleyway. The first words I ever spoke to her.
The rain pounded against the cobblestones, washing away the blood. She was huddled against the brick wall, trembling, her golden hair plastered to her face like a second skin.
So broken. So defeated.
Her face was streaked with dirt and tears as she clutched her mangled hand to her chest. The stench of garbage and desperation filled my nostrils.
She looked up at me with wide, terrified eyes that had seen too much pain, too much cruelty. The kind of eyes that haunted you long after they’ve closed.
“Who are you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, a fragile thing that could shatter with the wrong word.
I knelt before her, ignoring the cold water seeping through my pants. “I can help you,” I said instead of introducing myself.
She didn’t need to know who I was. Not yet, at least.
She shook her head. “I don’t know you.”
“You will,” I said, matter-of-factly.
I reached for her hand, and she flinched away, shrinking further against the wall. The moonlight caught the silver tracks of tears cutting through the grime on her cheeks. I reached for her hand, and she flinched again but didn’t pull away completely.
Her fingers were bent at unnatural angles, swollen and purple. The work of someone who took pleasure in destroying beautiful things. The hand of a painter, once graceful, was now destroyed.
I clicked my tongue. “That doesn’t look very good.”
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”
I unwrapped her tattered shawl from her shoulders and carefully wrapped it around her broken hand. “You’re going to need medical attention.”