Aria POV

The double doors to the study crashed against the paneling. Dante rushed in, Gia close on his heels.

He didn't look at me. He didn't even glance at the red, blistering skin on my hand. He went straight to the boy writhing on the floor.

"Leo!" Dante roared, scooping the child into his arms.

"She did it on purpose!" Leo sobbed, burying his face in Dante's chest. "She said she hates me!"

Dante turned to me. His eyes were black pits, pupils blown wide. There was no recognition in them, no memory of the ten years we had spent together. There was only the drug-fueled rage of a protector defending his pack.

"What is wrong with you?" he spat.

I held my wrist, the skin peeling back in angry strips. "Dante, he dropped the tureen," I stammered. "He burned me."

"Liar!" Gia shrieked. She rushed to Dante's side, stroking Leo's hair. "She is jealous, Dante. She is jealous because she is broken. Because she cannot give you what I gave you."

Dante's gaze dropped to my stomach. The look of disgust on his face shattered whatever was left of my heart.

"You are a monster," he said, his voice low and venomous. "You attack a child because of your own failure?"

"My failure?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "You swore to protect me."

"I protect my family," Dante snarled. "Get out of my sight. If you touch him again, Aria, I will forget who you were to me."

He turned his back. He walked away, carrying the boy who was smirking into his shoulder. Gia followed, pausing at the doorway to look back at me.

She didn't say a word. She just smiled, a victory lap in silence.

I stood there frozen for a long time. The soup was drying tacky and stiff on my skin. The burn throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a distinct, rhythmic agony.

I walked to the kitchen sink. I ran cold water over my hand. I wrapped it in a towel. I did it all mechanically, like a robot programmed only for survival.

I remembered a time when a waiter had spilled wine on my dress. Dante had broken the man's fingers. Now, I was the enemy.

I went upstairs to my room. I sat on the edge of the bed we used to share.

An hour later, the door opened. Dante stood there. He looked exhausted, the manic energy fading into a chemical slump.

"I am sleeping in Leo's room tonight," he said. "He is traumatized."

I didn't look at him. I stared at the white bandage on my hand.

"Okay," I said.

He lingered. Maybe he expected a fight. Maybe deep down, the real Dante was screaming to get out. But the drugs were stronger.

"Good," he said.

He left.

I lay down in the dark. The walls of the estate were thick, but not thick enough.

I heard the door to the guest wing open. I heard Gia's voice, low and murmuring. I heard Dante's deep rumble.

And then I heard the rhythmic creak of the bedsprings. The sounds of my husband taking another woman in the house my father had built.

I didn't cry. Tears were for the living. My marriage was a corpse, and I was just waiting for the funeral.

Aria POV

The next morning, I found Dante in the kitchen. He was wearing an apron, the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of a whisk against a stainless-steel bowl filling the silence.

The domesticity of the scene was terrifying because it was so perfectly, violently normal. His eyes were bright. Too bright.

"Good morning, Cara," he said, his voice light, as if he hadn't verbally flayed me the night before.

I stood frozen in the doorway. My suitcase was still shoved under the bed upstairs. The plane was waiting.

"We are going out," he announced, not asking. "A family day. Gia needs things for the boy."

"I am not going," I said.

The whisking stopped instantly. He set the bowl down with a heavy, deliberate clatter.

He walked over to me, closing the distance in two strides, and gripped my chin. His fingers dug into my jaw, pressing against the bone until I tasted copper.

"You will go," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "We are a united front. You will show respect."

I got dressed. I put on a long-sleeved shirt to hide the burn.

The SUV was waiting in the driveway. Gia and Leo were already in the back seat. Dante opened the front passenger door for me, a mockery of chivalry.

We drove to the Magnificent Mile. Dante played music. Leo sang along. I stared out the window, watching the city blur, counting the minutes until I could escape.

Inside the luxury mall, Dante was a king. He threw money around like confetti, buying loyalty with every swipe of his black card. He bought Leo a new video game console. He bought Gia a floor-length fur coat.

He bought me a scarf.

Silk. Expensive. Impersonal.

We walked into the jewelry store. The manager rushed over, practically bowing to the Don.

Dante looked at the display case, his gaze sweeping over the gold and platinum until it locked on a necklace. It was a sapphire pendant surrounded by a halo of diamonds. It was deep blue, like the ocean at night, cold and bottomless.

"It is beautiful," I said, the words slipping out involuntarily. It was the kind of piece a Capo bought his Donna for a milestone anniversary.

Dante nodded. "Wrap it up," he told the manager.

He took the velvet box. He turned to me. For a split second, my heart stuttered. I thought he was going to apologize. I thought this was the peace offering, the bribe to keep me compliant.

Then, he turned past me.

"For you," he said, handing the box to Gia. "To match your eyes."

Gia's eyes were brown.

She squealed and threw her arms around him. The sales staff looked at the floor, embarrassed by the blatant cruelty. I stood there, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, burning hotter than the wound on my arm. I was the wife, standing in the shadows of the mistress.

"I'm going to the car," I said, my voice hollow.

Dante didn't even look up. "Take the keys. We will be right behind you."

I walked out. The air in the parking garage was stale and cold, smelling of exhaust and damp concrete. I needed to breathe. I needed to run.

I heard them behind me. Gia's laughter echoed off the concrete walls, a sharp, grating sound.

I unlocked the SUV.

Suddenly, tires screeched. A white sports car came tearing around the corner, speeding the wrong way down the lane. It was moving fast, the engine roaring, aiming straight for the group.

Gia froze. She was directly in the path.

I was closer to the car. I was standing right next to the open door.

Dante didn't hesitate. He didn't look at me.

He lunged. He shoved me aside-hard.

It wasn't a push to save me. It was a shove to clear the way. I slammed into the side mirror of the SUV, the metal casing gouging into my hip, and fell to the pavement.

Dante threw his body over Gia and Leo, shielding them as the car swerved at the last second and sped off toward the exit.

Silence followed. Heavy and suffocating.

Dante scrambled up. He checked Gia. He checked Leo. He ran his hands over them, frantic, desperate.

"Are you hurt? Did he hit you? My God, Gia."

I was lying on the asphalt. My hip throbbed with a dull, sickening ache. My burned hand had scraped against the ground, reopening the wound, the bandage tearing away.

"Dante," I whispered.

He didn't turn. He was kissing Gia's forehead, murmuring comforts, checking her for scratches that weren't there.

I stood up. I limped backward.

He hadn't just chosen them. He had used me as an obstacle-human debris to be tossed aside-to save them.

I turned around and started walking toward the exit ramp.

I didn't look back. I didn't call the family doctor. I just walked.

Aria POV

I made it back to the estate in a taxi, the silence of the house pressing against my ears like water.

I went upstairs and pulled the suitcase from under the bed.

The front door slammed downstairs.

"Aria!"

Dante's voice thundered through the halls. It shook the crystals of the foyer chandelier.

He found me in the bedroom before I could even undo the latches. His shirt was torn, a smear of grime across his chest, and a fresh cut bled sluggishly on his cheek. He looked feral.

"Where did you go?" he shouted, advancing on me. "You abandoned us!"

I stood my ground, my voice hollow. "You have them. You don't need me."

"They are hurt!" he screamed, the cords in his neck straining. "The car sideswiped Gia's leg. Leo is in shock. They are at the clinic right now."

"So go to them," I said.

"I need you," he said.

I froze. For a single, treacherous second, hope flared in my chest. A warm, desperate thing.

"Gia lost a lot of blood," he continued, breathless. "She has a rare type. You match her. I checked your medical file."

The hope died-cold, instant, and absolute.

"You want me to give blood to your mistress?"

"I want you to save the mother of my heir!" he roared, grabbing my arm. "Get in the car."

He didn't wait for me to walk. He dragged me. He physically hauled me down the stairs, my heels catching on the steps, and shoved me into the backseat of his car.

At the private clinic, the mob doctor didn't ask questions. He didn't look me in the eye.

He just hooked me up.

I watched my red blood flow through the clear plastic tube, leaving me to fill the veins of the woman who was poisoning my marriage.

Dante paced the small room like a caged tiger. He didn't offer me water. He didn't ask if I was dizzy. He just watched the bag fill, his eyes fixated on the fluid that would save his prize.

When it was done, I sat up. The room tilted dangerously.

"Come," Dante said, checking his watch. "You need to apologize."

"Apologize?" I laughed. It was a weak, brittle sound, like dry leaves stepping on stone. "For what?"

"For leaving the scene. For the security lapse."

He placed a hand on the small of my back-not to steady me, but to push me into the recovery room.

Gia was lying in bed, looking flushed and healthy with my life force coursing through her system. Leo was sitting on the chair, aggressively tapping at a handheld video game.

"Look who decided to show up," Gia sneered, smoothing the sheets.

"I saved your life," I whispered.

Leo stood up. His eyes were wide, manic. He picked up a heavy crystal vase from the bedside table.

"Get out!" the boy screamed. "You hate us!"

He threw the vase.

It wasn't a child's clumsy toss. It was heavy, aimed with vicious intent. It smashed against my shoulder, the impact sending a shockwave of blinding pain down my arm. I stumbled back, gasping.

Leo immediately threw himself to the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"She hit me! She hit me first!"

Dante rushed in from the hall, his eyes scanning the scene. He saw the broken glass. He saw his son crying on the floor.

He turned to me.

"You are done," Dante whispered. He looked at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. "You are unfit to be a Vitiello. Get out of my sight before I kill you myself."

I clutched my throbbing shoulder. I looked at the three of them-the father, the mistress, the son.

The family portrait of hell.

I turned and walked out of the clinic.

It was raining outside. A cold, miserable downpour.

I walked down the dark alleyway toward the main street to catch a cab. I was dizzy from blood loss, aching from the burn of the needle and the bruise blooming on my shoulder.

Shadows detached themselves from the wet brick walls. Three men. They wore ski masks.

One of them slapped a metal pipe into his palm.

"This is from the Don," the lead man said, his voice muffled. "A lesson in respect."

I didn't fight. I didn't have the strength.

The first blow hit my ribs. I heard the wet crack of bone. I fell face-first into the mud.

They beat me until the world went gray. They kicked me until I couldn't feel the biting cold of the rain anymore.

As I lay there, bleeding into the dirty water, one of them pulled out a phone.

"It's done, Boss," he said into the receiver. "She learned."

He hung up. Footsteps splashed away, leaving me there.

I closed my eyes.

I wasn't Aria Vitiello anymore. Aria Vitiello died in this alley.

I dragged myself toward the street lights, inch by painful inch. I had a plane to catch.

And when I came back, I wouldn't be the wife.

I would be the Reaper.