Chapter 8

Sienna POV

Three days passed.

Or perhaps it was four.

Time loses its meaning when the sun ceases to exist.

I survived on the crusts of stale bread and the tepid water that Rocco shoved through the slot in the iron door once a day.

But the cold was the worst part.

It seeped past my skin and settled deep into my marrow, making my joints ache with a familiar, biting throb. It reminded me of the freezer. Of the docks.

On the fourth day, the metal slot slid open with a harsh scrape.

Rocco didn't push food through this time.

Instead, he slid a sleek tablet across the rough stone.

"Boss wants you to watch," he grunted, his voice devoid of pity.

I dragged my body over to the device, my limbs heavy.

The screen flared to life, the brightness stinging my eyes.

It was a live stream.

The Vitiello estate gardens had been transformed into a paradise of white roses. A string quartet was playing Vivaldi, the elegant notes filtering tinny and distorted through the tablet's speakers.

It was a wedding.

My wedding.

But I wasn't the bride.

The camera panned to the altar.

Dante stood there. He looked devastating in a black tuxedo, sharp and imposing against the soft florals. He wasn't smiling. He looked like a statue carved from unyielding marble, beautiful and cold.

Then the music swelled and changed.

Valeria walked down the aisle.

She was wearing a gown of intricate lace that likely cost more than my entire existence. It was tight-fitting, perfectly showcasing the body that my blood had been spilled to save.

Beside the tablet, Rocco slid a piece of paper and a pen through the slot.

I picked it up, my fingers numb.

Divorce papers.

Reason: Irreconcilable Differences and Mental Instability.

I looked at the screen. The priest was speaking now, his words a low murmur.

I looked down at the paper.

My hand didn't shake.

For the first time in years, a strange, hollow calm settled over me.

I signed the paper.

Sienna Vitiello.

Then, I reached into the hidden hem of my dress.

The guards had searched me, patting down my ribs and pockets, but they hadn't checked the lining.

The vial was still there.

Gia had said one drop slows the heart. The whole vial stops it.

I worked the tiny cork free.

On the screen, Dante took Valeria's hands in his.

"Do you, Dante Vitiello, take this woman..."

I raised the vial to my lips.

It tasted like nothing. Innocuous as water.

I swallowed it all.

I lay back on the cold stone floor, clutching the tablet to my chest like a lifeline.

My heart gave a hard thud against my ribs.

Then another.

Then it slowed.

Thump... thump...

On the screen, Dante was sliding a ring onto her finger.

He looked up then. Straight into the camera lens.

For a split second, I thought he could see me.

My vision blurred at the edges. The biting cold wasn't painful anymore. It was warm. Comforting, like a heavy blanket.

My lungs stopped drawing air.

The darkness wasn't a cage anymore.

It was freedom.