My broken arm throbs in its cast, a distant pain compared to the white-hot rage consuming me. Every lie, every sidewaysglance, every subtle dig Sabrina ever made suddenly makes perfect sense. She’d known. She’d always known.
“I don’t know when you decided I was to blame,” I spit the words at her. “Or when you decided I needed to die for something I didn’t do. But you’re wrong.” I scream the last part right into her face.
Sabrina’s face contorts, caught between fear and stubborn hatred. “You deserved everything I did,” she hisses through clenched teeth. “You were nothing but Mom’s mistake.”
I jerk her head back further, making her gasp. “A mistake who worked at the bakery while you were out chasing followers and fame. A mistake who took care of Mom while she was dying. A mistake who would have done anything—anything—to protect you.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Raffaele watching, his face impassive but his eyes burning with a dark intensity. He doesn’t intervene. Doesn’t pull me away or calm me down. He simply bears witness to this moment of transformation, this final shedding of the woman I was when he first collected me.
“Iwasyour sister,” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper that somehow fills the entire room. “Whether we shared the same blood or not. I was your sister, and you threw that away.”
Something shifts inside me—a piece falling into place, a decision crystallizing. The rage doesn’t disappear, but it cools, hardens into something more dangerous. More permanent.
I release Sabrina’s hair and step back, my spine straightening as I look down at her. She stares up at me, mascara streaking down her cheeks.
“You know, I spent days on that yacht trying to convince myself I couldn’t let this happen,” I say, my voice steadier now. “Telling myself I couldn’t live with your death on my conscience. That I couldn’t be the kind of person who signs off on an execution.”
I turn to meet Raffaele’s gaze, and something passes between us—understanding, acceptance, unity. His eyes soften infinitesimally, just for me, just for this moment.
“But that’s not what this is,” I continue, turning back to Sabrina. “This isn’t me signing off on anything. This is you facing the consequences of your own choices. You tried to have me killed. You conspired with Andrea Russo to end my life. And now you face what comes after.”
The fear in Sabrina’s eyes sharpens, reality finally cutting through her hatred. “Alina,” she whispers, my name sounding strange on her lips after so much venom. “You can’t let him do this. We’re family.”
I lift my chin, studying her as if from a great distance. “I would have done anything for you,” I tell her, the words precise and cutting in their honesty. “But you wanted me dead. This is your board. Your game. Your loss.” I take a final step back; my decision made. “Checkmate.”
Turning away from her, I walk toward the door with steady steps that belie the trembling in my hands. I don’t look back. Don’t hesitate. This moment was inevitable from the second Sabrina decided I was better off dead.
Raffaele’s voice follows me, low and meant just for my ears as I pass him. “I’ll be right up.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak again. The door feels heavier than it should as I push it open, the cool air of the stairwell hitting my flushed face like a slap.
“Alina!” Sabrina’s scream tears through the air behind me, high and desperate. “Don’t leave me here! Alina!”
I start up the stairs, each step taking me further from the basement, from Sabrina, from the girl I used to be. Behind me, the heavy door swings shut, muffling Sabrina’s continued pleas. But not enough to block out what comes next.
The sharp crack of Raffaele’s gun reverberates through the concrete walls, cutting off Sabrina’s voice mid-scream. Then silence, absolute and final.
I pause on the stairs, my hand gripping the railing for support. Tears burn behind my eyes but don’t fall. I wait for guilt, for horror, for regret—but all I feel is a terrible, exhausted relief.
I continue up the stairs, each step lighter than the last. Above me, sunlight spills through the door at the top of the staircase, warm and golden. Onyx waits there, and the beginning of whatever comes next. Whatever I choose to make of this second chance at life.
Behind me, Raffaele’s footsteps start up the stairs, steady and unhurried. Following me as he always will. The man who collected me. The man who saved me. The man who just killed for me with no hesitation and no regret.
My husband. My protector. My choice.
Epilogue 1
Raffaele
3 months later.
The sound of Alina’s whimpers cuts through my sleep like a blade. My eyes snap open to the darkness of our bedroom, immediately alert.
Beside me, my wife’s body twists in the tangled sheets, her naked skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat in the pale moonlight filtering through our curtains.
Another nightmare.
They’ve become less frequent in the three months since we returned to Cleveland, but they still come. Sneaking in likeunwelcome visitors in the darkness when her defenses are down. I reach for her, but stop. There are better ways to chase away her demons.
