My breath stutters, collapses into a shaky pulse.
Because the evidence clutched against my chest isn’t just the truth.It’s a weapon.
A weapon that could destroy the man who killed for me.
The Crack in Her Revenge
I slide down the cold stone wall until my spine hits the floor, legs folding beneath me like they’ve finally stopped pretending I’m made of steel. The recorder sits on the metal table in front of me, its pause button glowing faintly—waiting, accusing, daring me to press it again.
I can’t.
The sounds replay anyway, looping behind my eyes:
My father’s breath catching.Giovanni’s calm, surgical cruelty.That final choke—wet, rattling—cut straight through me.
I press the heel of my hand hard against my mouth to stop the sob clawing up my throat, but instead of Giovanni’s voice echoing through my skull…
…I hear Santino’s.
“You are safe with me.”
The words land wrong now—too heavy, too warm, too close. They wrap around places I swore were dead, settle low in my chest like something I shouldn’t want, something I don’t have the strength to refuse.
Safe with him.Safe with Giovanni’s son.Safe with the heir of the man who murdered my father.
My pulse jumps painfully, a frantic stutter I can’t slow. Dust drifts from the ceiling like falling ash as I stare upward, trying to breathe past the tightening in my ribs.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t think about him. I shouldn’t feel anything except the cold burn of vengeance.
But I do.
When I remember Santino standing over me in the tunnels—blood splattered across his collar, chest heaving after killing a man who dared touch me—
When I remember the way his rough fingers brushed my cheek like he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch softness—
When I remember the way he whispered my name like a sin he wanted to confess and commit in the same breath—
Warmth slips through me again, wrecking me from the inside out.
I swipe my sleeve across my eyes, furious at the heat gathering there.
He’s the enemy.He’s a weapon I used.A door I pushed open.A Rivas.
And yet… my body remembers him. The way I leaned into him without thinking. The way my breath caught when he looked at me like I wasn’t a lie. The way his presence wrapped around me felt like protection instead of danger.
No.
No. No. No.
I shake my head hard, as if I can fling the feeling out of my skull. This isn’t real. It’s fallout. Trauma. Weakness.
But the truth—my truth, the one I’ve avoided longer than Giovanni’s—sticks in my throat like broken glass.
I didn’t come here just for revenge.I came here to end a legacy.And now I’m falling for its last loyal son.
A bitter laugh escapes me, small and cracked. I let my head fall back against the wall and stare at the recorder.
