—Ellie— Mateo was already gone when I woke the next morning. He’d always been a late riser, but that, too, seemed to have changed. I slipped out of bed and dressed before I left my room. Instead of heading downstairs, I moved down the hallway to Arianna’s room and knocked. My stomach tightened painfully. “Come in!” she called. Frowning at her chipper tone, I slipped in. She lay on her stomach, her ankles crossed. She was drawing. When she spotted me, she flushed. I walked toward her and perched on the edge of the bed. Her arms covered her drawing, and I tilted my head. “I wanted to talk to you about Drake. I assume Dad already talked to you?” She gave a tentative nod, biting her lip. “Are you mad at me?” “Mad?” I echoed, confused. “Because Drake wants to marry me now and not you.” The tightness left my chest. That was what they told her. Good. I regarded her closely. “No. I’m not. I want you to be
—Tristan— The Arena was packed for my fight as I strode in. Damian followed close behind as we walked toward the booth where Adam, Savio, Kate, Anna, and Fabian were waiting. I was already in my fight shorts, and my body thrummed with barely contained bloodlust. Roger helped behind the bar for once and gave me a nod in greeting, which I returned. The audience was throwing glances my way, eager, curious, terrified. My fights were always particularly popular—for those who could stomach them. Greg looked fucking ecstatic as he noted the bets down. “Who are the unlucky souls you’ll fight?” Savio asked curiously. “Ask Damian.” I didn’t care who they were. I’d rip them to shreds either way. “Two ex-cons. Both on the run. Both in desperate need of money and new identities. Out of options,” Damian said matter-of-factly. “One of them kicked his pregnant wife half to death and she lost the baby. Already served a sentence because of
—Ellie— Mom and I sat in the garden on a swing, enjoying a warm fall day. I’d been back for only three days, and it was the first time Mom and I were really alone. Our feet gently kicked the ground to keep the swing in motion. Mom held my hand, peering up at the sky. I knew she had questions but couldn’t ask them, and I wasn’t sure if I could give her answers. “Why did you give Arianna to Drake?” I asked eventually to say something. “It’s not what we wanted, not what Drake wanted, but we need to bind our families. It’s what’s expected,” Mom said. “And he’s a decent man.” “You said the same words to me on the day we were bethrothed.” Mom paled but managed a small nod. “I wanted to take away your fears.” “I know.” Her blue eyes held mine, filling with anguish. She touched my cheek. “I wanted only the best for you. I wanted happiness. I wanted a man who would carry you on his hands, who showed you kindness like
—Ellie— I sat in front of my vanity and brushed my hair, stroke after stroke, trying to find calm. I could hear the first guests downstairs, could hear laughter and music. I needed to go down. Taking a deep breath, I stood. I’d chosen a floor-length form-fitting dark blue dress matching the color of Mateo’s shirt. I touched my stomach, still flat, but I knew in a few months I couldn’t wear dresses like this anymore. Tristan’s baby. I closed my eyes. I was happy and sad, terrified and hopeful. What would Tristan say if he knew? Would he care at all? I had been a means to an end, a queen in his chess game, and he’d won. He had let me go as if I was nothing. I’d heard the rumors of his cage fights. He was back to fighting, back to living his life. I wondered if he’d already moved on to one of the many whores at his disposal? Probably. I had been stupid. Mateo was right. Remo had twisted my mind so he could control me, a
—Ellie— The next morning, Dad, Mateo, and Salvador wanted to talk to me. When I walked into Dad’s office, I knew from their expressions that it wouldn’t be an easy conversation and definitely not one I’d like. Dad sat behind his desk, Mateo perched on its edge, and my uncle stood with his hands in his slacks beside the window. I made a beeline for the sofa and sank down. My brain felt sluggish from lack of sleep. I’d spent all night trying to come to terms with the fact that I was carrying a baby, Tristan’s baby. “What do you want to talk about?” Three sets of eyes darted to my belly, and my hand automatically—protectively—pressed to the spot. “If you keep this child,” my uncle began. “I will keep the child.” Dad looked away and then at the picture frame on his desk. A photo of our family taken shortly before I’d been kidnapped. “You will have to keep it hidden,” Dad said. I blinked at them. “What?” “Once
—Ellie— I loved my family with all my heart. And they loved me. But the moment I held my children in my arms, I knew I could not stay with them forever, knew it with soul-crushing certainty. My children whom I had named Samuel and Isabella were Tristan through and through. Dark eyes, thick black hair. For everyone in my family they’d always be Russo's, always the result of something horrid, born out of something shameful, something dark. But for me they were the most beautiful creation I could imagine. They were utter perfection. They would lift each other up, make each other stronger like Mateo and I had done when we were younger and still did. It would be us against the world. It couldn’t be any other way. Mateo stayed with me in the hospital after the birth while Mom went home for a few hours of sleep after twenty hours at my side during labor. Mateo’s eyes were kind and loving as they looked down at me, but these ten
—Ellie— A high pitched wail sounded. Mateo and I jerked up at the same time from where we’d fallen asleep on the sofa in the nursery. We didn’t bother going into our beds most of the time because Samuel and Isabella woke every two hours. He and Mom took turns helping me, and during the day Arianna changed diapers and helped feed them as well. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept more than two hours in the last six months. Mateo rubbed his face. I knew he didn’t sleep much on the nights he wasn’t helping either. The Family was planning something. He had only hinted to it, but it could only be an attack on the Russo's. It scared me, terrified me because I wasn’t only scared for Mateo and Dad but also for the man I couldn’t forget. I stood and so did Mateo. He reached for Isabella like usual and I took Samuel. This was our routine, one I didn’t question anymore. I was glad for Mateo’s support, even if he coul
—Tristan— Kate was in full-blown Christmas mode. She’d decorated every area of the house she was allowed into. I knew she would have loved to wield her magic in my wing as well, but she wasn’t that daring yet. Good for her, because I was in a fucking foul mood, had been for days, and today was the worst of all. The scent of freshly baked cookies wafted through the house as I read the email from Max, the organizer of our races. Everything had been set up for the biggest race we’d ever held. Damian wasn’t happy I decided to end it in Kansas City after the last incident, but I wanted to make a fucking point. The Cavelleros had been surprisingly careful in their attacks. An ambush here and there, a few dismembered soldiers, but nothing major. Until three days ago when they killed my fucking Underboss in Kansas City. A warning not to get so close to their territory. Maybe the beginning of more. Ending the race anywhere else would have s