Dante showed up at the penthouse with a bouquet of ninety-nine red roses and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He acted as if the last week hadn't happened. As if he hadn't been brawling in the streets or sleeping in other beds.

"Happy birthday, my love," he said.

He took me up to the roof. He had arranged a private fireworks display over the Hudson River, sparing no expense.

For a second, just a split second, I wanted to believe it. The lights exploded in the sky-red, gold, purple-reflecting in the dark water below. It was beautiful. It was the kind of grand gesture a girl dreams of.

Then his phone rang.

He checked it, and his face went pale.

He didn't answer it. He silenced it immediately, shoving it back into his pocket. But the mood was shattered. The smoke from the fireworks lingered in the air, drifting over us, smelling like sulfur and burnt powder.

"I have a surprise," he said, his voice tight, lacking its usual charm. "Let's go to the summer estate. Just us. No guards. No phones."

He drove. We were halfway there, navigating a winding road surrounded by dense, encroaching forest, when the phone rang again. And again.

He finally answered it, his thumb fumbling and putting it on speaker by accident before he scrambled to switch it off.

But he wasn't fast enough. I heard her scream.

"I'm bleeding, Dante! The baby! I think I'm losing it!"

Dante slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a violent halt on the gravel shoulder, dust billowing around us.

He looked at me. There was panic in his eyes. Real, raw panic.

"I have to go," he said.

"What?" I asked, though the cold pit in my stomach told me exactly what was happening.

"It's... it's Luca," he stammered. "He's been shot. It's life or death."

He was lying to my face. On my birthday. In the middle of nowhere. I had heard the woman's voice. I had heard *'baby.'*

"Get out," he said.

I stared at him, unable to process the cruelty. "You're joking."

"I need to turn around. I can't take you back to the city, it will take too long. The estate is just a mile up that hill. Walk. I'll come back for you."

He reached across me and shoved my door open.

He was pushing me out. He was choosing her crisis, her lie, over my safety.

I got out. I didn't have a choice.

Before I could even close the door, he peeled away. The tires kicked up a spray of gravel that stung my bare legs.

I stood alone in the dark. The red taillights of his car disappeared around the bend, leaving me in total silence.

My phone buzzed in my clutch.

It was a message from Mia.

*He chose me and the baby. Happy birthday, Princess.*

I looked at the dark road ahead. It was freezing. I hugged my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces of my dignity together.

My phone rang again. It wasn't Dante.

It was a video call. The ID was blocked.

I answered.

Enzo's face filled the screen. He was in a car, the interior upholstered in dark leather. He looked at me, and his eyes narrowed instantly, assessing the background.

"Where are you?" he demanded. His voice was a low growl.

"On the side of Route 9," I said. My voice didn't shake. I was done shaking.

"Why?"

"Dante left me. He had an emergency."

Enzo didn't ask what the emergency was. He saw the darkness behind me. He saw the way I was holding myself, the way the birthday dress looked ridiculous against the backdrop of a forest highway.

"I am ten minutes away," he said.

"You're in Italy," I said, confused.

"I told you, Elena. I'm coming for you. Start walking. Keep the phone on. If anyone approaches you, you scream my name."

I started walking.

Hearing his steady breathing over the phone was the only thing that kept me putting one foot in front of the other.

He didn't offer empty platitudes. He didn't tell me it would be okay. He just stayed on the line, a silent, dangerous guardian in the digital void.

"I'm here," he said eventually.

Headlights cut through the darkness, blinding me for a moment. A massive black SUV pulled up beside me.

Enzo stepped out. He looked like war wrapped in a Tom Ford suit.

He walked up to me, his presence consuming the space. He didn't ask if I was okay. He touched my cheek with his thumb, wiping away a smudge of dirt I hadn't known was there.

"He dies tomorrow," Enzo said.

"No," I whispered. The anger in my chest had crystallized into something harder, colder.

"Not death. That's too easy. I want him destroyed."

Enzo smiled. It was a terrifying expression, sharp and predatory.

"As you wish, my Queen."

Chapter 7

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