But as I stare at the gently swaying curtains—still moving, still whispering against the air like a ghost’s breath—I realize the truth curling cold in my stomach:
Maybe Santino saved me.
But someone else — someone who already knew where to find me,someone who moves like smoke,someone who has been closer than I ever realized—
might not want me alive at all.
My fingers tighten around the knife.
I no longer believe Santino saved me from danger tonight…
11
Santino
The Key That Won’t Leave His Hand
Idon’t sleep.
I don’t even try.
I sit on the edge of my bed, elbows braced on my knees, the storm outside thrashing against the stained glass like it wants to rip the entire church apart. Thunder rattles the old wooden frame. Rain hammers the roof. The entire building feels like it’s shivering.
I should be praying.
I should cleanse the blood from my hands.
I should do anything except… this.
But all I can do is stare at my hands.
My left palm is stained with dried blood—Rocco's or mine, I can't tell—which smears my rosary's wooden beads. The crucifix hangs loose between my fingers, heavy, accusing, like it knows exactly what I did tonight.
My right hand grips the key.
Giovanni’s key.
The metal is cold enough to bite. Too ornate for a church. Too heavy for innocence. Carved with the Rivas crest—the same crest I swore I’d never carry, never claim, never bow to.
And here I am, clutching it like a lifeline.
I drag a hand over my face, pushing back damp hair, grounding myself in the burn along my knuckles. My skin is split open, bruised from slamming into bone. From killing a man.
For her.
Fuck.
Pia’s face flickers through my mind—the way she looked at me after I strangled Rocco, like she didn’t know whether to run from me or toward me. The way her voice shook when she said I saved her. The way her hand touched my cheek — like she had any right to.
My chest tightens, a deep ache crawling up my throat.
I don’t know how to process what happened down there.
I don’t know how to process what I did.
I told myself I’d walk away from violence.
I told myself I’d be better than Giovanni.
