My world narrows to that rectangle of glass.
He plucks it up between two fingers like it offends him.
“We already sent a message,” he says lightly.
My stomach drops through the floor.
I lean forward as far as the cuffs allow.
“What did you do?” I ask.
Carlo’s smile sharpens.
He taps the screen and angles it toward me.
The display flares to life.
A text thread.My name.Pinned location.
SENT.
To Santino.
My vision goes fuzzy around the edges.
“They’re very attached to you, priests,” Carlo muses. “Curse, salvation—same addiction. But yours?” He taps again, casual as a god. “He’ll come.”
I swallow hard enough it hurts.
“He won’t,” I whisper.
Carlo laughs.
Then he holds the phone closer, inches from my face.
I see it.
Two read receipts.The three-dot bubble.Disappearing.Reappearing.
My breath stutters.
Carlo lowers the phone slowly, savoring it.
“Oh, darling,” he says. “He’s already on his way.”
Something in my chest caves in on itself.
Not fear.
Resolve.
He thinks he’s baiting Santino.He has no idea he just declared war on a man who doesn’t know how to bleed slowly.
I lift my gaze to Carlo’s face.
“If he comes here,” I say quietly, voice shaking with rage and certainty, “you’re not trading me.”
His brow ticks up.
