“Be grateful. Your death will have meaning. Few are given such a chance.”
My chest tightened so sharply it felt like it might split.
The academy gates came into view ahead.
Tall. Iron.
Imposing.
Wrapped in ivy that made them look deceptively beautiful—like something sacred instead of something that held secrets.
Like something that would swallow me whole.
“I would give you a grand burial, Elena.”
The way he said it—almost... gentle.
It twisted something inside me.
“Kings. Queens. Dignitaries from every corner of the world.” His voice remained detached. “You would die as Vincenzo Orsini’s wife.”
He glanced at me briefly—just once—before returning his attention to the road.
“That is honor enough.”
The words hit me like a fist.
“You would have died cheaply anyway.”
He continued, as though weighing outcomes. “At Ruslan Baranov’s hands, or some other enemy’s.”
The name hit harder than expected.
“Instead...” His tone lowered slightly, “your death will have meaning.”
My throat burned.
“History will remember you as the woman who sacrificed her heart to save another.”
A sound tore from my chest before I could stop it.
Half sob.
Half broken, incredulous laugh.
My voice shook now, no longer controlled. “You think promising me a pretty tombstone is going to make me lie down quietly while you cut my heart out for your mistress?”
“She is not my mistress.”
“She is.” The words came out sharper this time, laced with something raw and unfiltered. “Whether you sleep with her or not, that’s exactly what she is to you.”
I turned fully toward him now, unable to hold it in any longer.
“The woman you’d kill for,” I said, voice trembling. “The woman you’d kill me for.”
The truck passed beneath the academy’s stone archway.
He didn’t slow.
