Page 103 of Beneath the Shadows

Alessia

The familiar skyline of Philadelphia comes into view, its towering buildings reaching up to greet the fading light of the day. The sun hangs low, casting a warm, golden hue across the city, making the glass and steel of the skyscrapers shimmer with the last rays of sunlight. But instead of feeling like I’m going home, dread coils in my stomach. My heart rate spikes, and nausea churns in my stomach.

Antonio sits beside me, silent. He’s hiding something. I can feel it in the way his body grows more tense with each passing minute. Part of me wants to ask him, but the other part of me doesn’t want to know.

He pulls out his phone, his voice low but firm as he speaks. “Meet me at the house within the hour. We don’t have time to waste.” He ends the call without waiting for a response, sliding the phone back into his pocket like he hasn’t just made some life-altering decision. I have no idea who he was talking to, but the tone in his voice only intensifies the sense of dread creeping through me.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of my voice.

Silence. Antonio doesn’t even glance my way. His lack of response stokes my fury and fear, each feeding off the other. I look at Dante, catching the brief exchange of looks between him and Antonio. Something unspoken passes between them. Whatever’s happening, they’re both in on it.

Dante drives through the city with a calmness that’s at odds with the tension in the car. The bustling streets of downtown give way to quieter, more residential neighborhoods. My heart pounds harder with every familiar block, a sickening realization setting in as Dante finally pulls the car into the driveway of Giovanni and Domenica’s house.

“What are we doing here?” I demand, my eyes narrowing as I look around.

Antonio opens his door, stepping out casually. “This is where we live,” he says flatly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I scramble out of the car, following close behind him. “What do you mean, this is wherewelive?”

He doesn’t break stride as he responds, his tone clipped. “My aunt gifted me the house before she returned to Italy.”

“Domenica went back to Italy?” The words tumble out in shock. “When?”

Antonio finally stops, turning to face me with thinly veiled impatience. “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s get inside.”

Taking a step back, I say, “I’m not going in there.”

“You’ll go on your own, or I’ll put you over my shoulder and carry you inside. Your choice, Alessia.”

My fists clench at my sides, ready for a fight, but I know deep down it’s futile. If I try to run, Antonio will catch me, and he’ll drag me in without a second thought. There’s no one who’ll stop him from doing whatever the hell he wants with me.

“Fine,” I spit out, pushing past him. Every step feels like I’m walking toward my own execution.

The dark walnut door opens, and I step inside. The familiar scent of the house wraps around me, but instead of comfort, it’s suffocating. “Now tell me what the hell is going on,” I demand, my voice shaking with anger.

His eyes meet mine, calm but unyielding. “The judge is on his way,” he says, his tone as casual as if he’s discussing the weather. “We’re getting married.”

The words leave me momentarily breathless. "What?" I regain just enough composure to speak, though disbelief and horror linger. "No. Just...no."

“This isn’t a negotiation. It’s happening, whether you agree or not.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to marry you.”

“Your agreement isn’t necessary,” he replies. “The judge is on my payroll. He doesn’t care if you’re willing.”

Antonio’s gaze sharpens. “You can make this difficult and drag it out, or you can put on a smile and get it over with. Either way, it’s happening.”

He’s right. I’m trapped, and no amount of fighting will change that. But the thought of surrendering to him, of being bound to another man who wants to control me, makes me sick.

“You’re a monster,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“You’ll adjust,” he says. “Go take a shower and change your clothes before the judge arrives,” he says like he’s offering me a choice when we both know I have none.

I look down at my Bluebird Diner T-shirt and black leggings, both of which I’ve been wearing for two days straight. “No,” I say, digging my heels in.

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” Motioning to Dante he says, “Keep an eye on her. I’ll be quick.”

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