—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— 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

—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

—Ellie— The house they took me to was a shabby three-story building close to the tracks, located in the industrial part of New York. When we stepped inside, my eyes registered Drake first. He had his arms crossed and was staring at a screen on a table against one wall. Beside him stood my uncle Salvador, as usual dressed in a suit, but his jacket was already slung over a chair that sat in front of the screen, and he had rolled up his sleeves. My stomach turned. I’d never seen him with rolled up sleeves, and I knew why. I had never been around when he’d tortured someone. There was another man, one of Dad’s soldiers, who was working at a laptop, probably establishing the Darknet connection. They turned when we entered, and all eyes zeroed in on me. I wasn’t supposed to be here. My uncle frowned and came toward us. Drake stayed where he was, but he, too, watched me. I wasn’t his fiancé anymore. I was nothing to him. My sister was p

—Tristan— I pressed the blade against my palm when Adam appeared on the screen. He was slumped forward on a chair. When they started cutting him, Adam’s scream filled the airplane, blaring from the speakers mercilessly, and fuck, they were the first screams in forever that got under my skin. The first since her screams. I cut into my palm, deep, drawing blood. Savio gripped the armrest of the seat, his arms shaking. Damian was behind me, one hand digging into my shoulder. Drake was next and took out a lighter. I jumped to my feet, shaking with rage ... so much rage, it threatened to rip me apart. Adam’s eyes widened. Fuck, he was a kid. He wasn’t like us. This was supposed to be me. I was supposed to burn for them. Drake touched the flame to Adam’s skin, and his screams got louder. I reached for my phone again, knowing that Salvador would reject my call like before and hating this fucking sense of helplessness. I was suppose