Around us, the storm escalated, the driving rain turning the dirt path into a slick track of mud. We had to take the steep mountain road down to where the armored SUVs were parked.

My heel caught on a buried tree root. My ankle twisted with a sickening *pop*, and a white-hot pain shot up my leg. I gasped, leaning heavily against Cassio's side to keep from collapsing.

He tightened his grip on my waist, his brow furrowed in concentration as he looked down at my ankle. "Hold onto my coat," he ordered.

Because he was focused on my injury, he failed to notice the massive, rotting tree branch snapping loose from the canopy directly above us.

I heard the wood splinter and looked up.

Before I could force a warning from my throat, Siena lunged forward. She shoved Cassio and me out of the way, placing herself in the path of the falling debris. The heavy branch slammed into her shoulder and back, and she collapsed into the mud with a piercing scream.

Cassio's face went ashen, all color draining from his lips.

He dropped my arm instantly, letting me stumble as he fell to his knees beside Siena. He frantically checked her pulse, his hands shaking. "Her injuries are life-threatening," he rasped, panic bleeding into his tone. "She needs immediate syndicate medical attention."

Standing up, he scooped Siena gently into his arms. He cast a glance at me where I stood trembling in the pouring rain.

"Find cover under the trees," he ordered sharply. "Wait here. I'll send my men back up the path for you."

He did not wait for my answer. He turned and sprinted down the mountain road, carrying my sister tightly against his chest.

I stood alone in the mud. The rain, tasting of rust and engine oil from the docks, streamed from my hair into the collar of my coat, leaching warmth from the sodden cashmere.

As I watched his broad back disappear into the raging storm, a bitter memory surfaced. I remembered the night he had proposed to me. He had made a blood vow, promising he would never leave my side during a storm.

I stared down the empty path. The sharp, grinding physical pain in my ankle was nothing compared to the creeping numbness now spreading through my veins.

I did not wait for his men. Instead, I dragged my injured leg forward and began to limp down the opposite side of the mountain alone. Every single step sent a fresh tremor of agony shooting up my spine.

Hours later, a passing civilian in a rusted pickup truck found me wandering on the edge of the highway. He took one look at my pale face and drove me to a nearby mob-affiliated clinic.

As soon as I was brought in, the clinic nurse checked my vitals, her brow furrowing at the thermometer. She informed me I was running a dangerous fever of 104 degrees.

"Do you have an emergency contact?" she asked gently. "Is there any family we can call?"

I stared blankly at the peeling paint on the clinic wall. "I have no family," I stated flatly.

With no available rooms, they placed me on a narrow cot in the drafty hallway. I drifted in and out of consciousness, the relentless fever making my skin burn.

Sometime through the sweltering haze, I heard two nurses gossiping near the supply closet. They were talking in hushed tones about the Falcone Don. They said he had carried a bleeding woman into the VIP wing hours ago. They whispered that he had stayed by her bedside all night, refusing to let go of her hand. They mistakenly referred to the woman as his wife.

I slowly closed my eyes. My heart, once a burning thing for that man, turned to ash. I accepted the devastating truth without shedding a single tear. My husband had spent the entire night guarding my sister, while I lay dying in a cold clinic hallway. A senior mob-affiliated doctor walked past the hallway. He stopped, his eyes widening in terror as he recognized the face of the Don's wife. I heard him frantically shouting at the nurses to get a secure line to Cassio immediately, his voice cracking with fear. But I was already slipping away.

Chapter 4

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