Page 24 of Savage Vows

Of course not. She’s not allowed to tell me what’s going on in my own life. My jaw clenches. The boss will let me know when it suits him—like everything else.

“The boss will let you know when he sees you downstairs,” Chiara confirms, as if reading my thoughts.

Once more, he’s summoned me like an obedient pet. If he has his way, this will be my future—following his orders, bearing his children, living in his world of violence and control. I refuse to become what my mother fought so hard to shield me from.

“Do you need help packing, ma’am?”

“Thank you. I can handle it,” I say, accepting my satchel and purse from Chiara as she wheels my bag into the room.

“The housekeeper asked me to remind you that she’s available for anything you need.” With that, she leaves me alone with my thoughts and my returned possessions.

My fingers tremble slightly as I open the satchel, almost afraid of what I might find—or worse, what I might not find. But everything is here, each item a tiny piece of my soul returned to me.

My smallest sketchbook, its leather cover worn butter-soft from years of use, still holds all my dreams and observations. I run my fingertips over my brushes, feeling the familiar textures—soft sable, coarse bristle, each one an old friend. The pencils are all here too, from the softest 6B to the sharpest 2H, alongwith my tubes of paint, some squeezed nearly empty, others still full of promise.

Setting the satchel aside, I reach for my purse with trembling hands.Please, please let it be... My breath catches as my fingers close around my phone. It’s here.

The screen lights up at my touch, and my heart nearly stops. There are dozens of missed calls. Even more text messages. My notification bar is an endless scroll of panic and concern.

Artemis’s messages start worried and become frantic:Are you all right?

The police are here.

Who was that man?

Please let us know you’re safe.

We’re all sick with worry.

Gabriel’s texts devolve from confusion to anger to fear:What the hell happened?

Who is he? Your fiancé? Why didn’t you tell me?

The police are useless. They say that since you wentwillingly,there’s nothing they can do.

Please, just let me know you’re alive.

My vision blurs with tears. These people—my found family at Elysian Hall—they care about me. Really care. Not because of my father’s name or what I represent, but because of who I am. My hands shake as I scroll through message after message, each one a reminder of the life I was building before Matteo shattered it.

A new text comes in from Gabriel:I won’t stop looking for you.

I swallow back the lump in my throat as I reply to Artemis.I’m okay. Let the others know?

Especially Gabriel.

Sorry for all the drama. Hope to see you again, if you’ll have me back.

Blinking back tears, I finish.Love you.

There’s a message from Enrico, my oldest brother, the sibling I like the least.You’d better fucking do what you’re supposed to for the first time in your life.

So much for going home and expecting help from my family.

Instantly I power off the phone before I give in to the temptation of replying to Gabriel. No matter how hard I try to shove aside Matteo’s warning from yesterday, the words ring in my ears. “No one touches what belongs to me.”

The device is heavy in my hands. It’s a lifeline I dare not use. With bitter resignation, I drop it back into my purse. Another small freedom surrendered.

Setting my purse aside, I hoist the suitcase onto the bed. Inside, I find my familiar toiletries—my brush, a tube of mascara that’s just the right shade of brown, my favorite coral lip gloss. The sight of my hair ties, simple as they are, brings an absurd wave of relief. These small pieces of my regular life feel like anchors in a storm.

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