Scars can make you or break you. I chose to wear mine like a beauty mark. Because that’s who I am.A better person.
He lunged forward, and before I could move, his hand wrapped around my throat. His grip tightened until I couldn’t breathe. Then he shoved me to the floor. I tried to crawl back, but his boot came down between my ribs.
I coughed hard, pain tearing through my chest. He grabbed a fistfulof my hair, dragging me across the floor toward the kitchen. I clawed at the cabinets, trying to grab something, anything, but every time I reached out, his fist found my face.
My vision blurred. My body started to give up.
Then a knife fell from the counter. I grabbed it, my fingers slick with sweat, and when he leaned in, I drove it into his leg.
He groaned in pain. “You little bitch!” he shouted, grabbing my wrist and slamming me against the cabinet.
I wasn’t done. He dropped the knife on the counter, and I snatched it again, my head spinning, vision pulsing red.
I lunged forward and plunged it into his neck.
He stumbled back with his eyes wide, his hands clutching the handle as blood ran down his chest and shoulders. Then he dropped to his knees.
I reached for the pot on the stove, lifted it with both hands, and swung. The metal cracked against his face.
He fell and became still.
My arms shook. My eyes blurred again. The kitchen started to spin.
I hit the floor, feeling the cold tile against my cheek, and everything went dark.
My eyes opened, and through the window I saw it was already night. I tried to sit up, but my body felt like it was made of lead. Every muscle burned. I looked at the clock. Just after seven in the evening. I needed to call someone for help.
But the only person I thought was Rocco.
I would call him. This time not ask for Rio’s burial site,because I knew he was alive. This time, it would be a favor he couldn’t refuse. I wanted Nico gone. For good.
I reached for the phone, but the cord hung loose from the wall. My pulse kicked harder. Then I remembered there was another phone in Christian’s room.
I dragged myself toward the stairs. Every bone screamed as I climbed. When I finally reached the room, I pushed the door open and saw the phone on the nightstand.
I crossed the floor, picked it up, and dialed Rocco’s number. The phone didn’t even ring once before he answered.
“You owe me a favor,” I said, clutching my stomach.
“Chiara?” His voice was surprised, then he gave a short laugh. “What do you mean?”
“You found out who owns House of Clowns,” I said. “You sold me to him.” My voice rose, anger cutting through the pain. “And you knew all along Rio was alive.”
Silence. Then a sigh.
“You have to understand,” he said. “I did it to protect you. If the Family had known you were still walking around, they would have taken you out. You’re dangerous for them.”
“Whatever,” I said flatly, swallowing every weak excuse he offered.
“How do you know Rio is alive?” he asked, his tone shifting. “No one knows that.”
“And it will stay that way if you help me,” I said.
He paused. “What do you need?”
“I...” I took a shaky breath. “I killed Nico.” My back straightened, but pain shot through every limb. “I want you to get rid of the body.”
He laughed quietly. “Didn’t know you had it in you, kid.” His voice turned low. “Proud of you.”
