Earlier that morning…
The door clicks shut. The lock slides home. Silence presses in, thick and suffocating. I sit on the edge of the bed, the glass of water still trembling in my hand. The pills leave a bitter and chalky taste in my mouth, and my gums are burning as I hold them there. I lean forward and spit them into the palm of my hand, one by one. My hands are shaking so badly that I almost drop them.
Daddywon't help me.
The thought lands clean and final.
Amauri will die.
Not because he did anything wrong. Not because I failed to love him hard enough. But because he'sinconvenient. Because he's leverage. Because the wrong men decided he was expendable.
I press my fists into my eyes until sparks explode behind my lids.
Think.
I have to think.
My father has power. Influence. Men. Connections that reach into every dark corner of this city. Still, he won't save my son. Which means there is only one option left.
I've known it since the momentDaddyrefused to save my son. But I'm afraid to breathe his name. Afraid that if I do,something will come for me. Afraid that saying it out loud will make it real, will wake something I buried a decade ago and swore never to touch again.
Massimo.
The name coils in my chest, tight and dangerous.
Of course, I know who he is now.
Everyone does.
You don't live in Las Vegas andnotknow his name. You don't work politics, don't spin narratives, don't bury scandals without running into his shadow sooner or later.
Back then, I knew too. I knew he was bad trouble.
CapitalB. CapitalT.
The kind of man other girls whispered about. The kind parents warned their daughters away from. Tattoos and violence, clinging to him like heat. A man who didn't pretend to be safe.
I should have run. But honestly, I was never given a choice.
Flash.
A locker room that smells like sweat and blood. My hands are shaking so hard I can't even scream. A body lies on the floor.
And him. He's there. Massimo. Checking for a pulse that's long gone.
Not panicked. Not cruel. Just… there.
Steady.
"It's okay," he says quietly, hands nowhere near me. "You're safe now."
No one else has ever said that to me, before or since, and meant it. How I wish somebody would do so now.
Another flash.
His jacket around my shoulders in the desert night. His eyes on the horizon like he's guarding the world itself. The way he never asks for anything. Never touches unless I reach first.
He was the only one who helped me. Not because he had to. Because he chose to. And he never asked for anything in return except my silence.
