Page 217 of Salvatore

“There is no fucking child,” Salvatore snaps. “It was a false medical report. How many times do you need to be told?”

Gabriel’s mouth curls at the edges, his amusement returning while he holds my gaze. “He protests too much, don’t you think?”

“Far too fucking much,” Alonso agrees.

“Heis the only chance you have of staying alive.” I articulate slowly. Calmly. “That’s why I’m here. His brothers sent me to negotiate. Your lives for Salvatore’s.”

“Fuck them.” Alonso storms toward me. “And fuck you. This asshole and his brothers have decimated our family. How can you negotiate when they killed our uncle and Miguel?”

“Maybe because our uncle and Miguel belong in hell.”

I don’t have time to brace before Alonso’s hand whips out, slapping across my cheek in a brutal arc.

The impact sends me stumbling, the punishing burn spreading across the entire left side of my face.

Salvatore roars, his shackles clattering as he fights for freedom. But it’s not the pain that cuts deepest. It’s the humiliation—the reminder of my weakness against full-grown men.

“Now, now, children. Play nice.” Gabriel places a hand on my brother’s chest, forcing distance between us as he grins. “We’re upsetting our guest. He seems quite affected by your treatment, wouldn’t you say?”

I raise a soothing palm to my throbbing cheek. “Silly men and their soft spots for women being treated humanely. Isn’t it annoyingly progressive?”

“What it is,” Gabriel drawls, “is a blinding sign that you’re valuable to him. What have you become to this man, Isabella?”

“My name is Ivy,” I sneer. “And what I mean to him is a ticket home. Just like what I currently mean to you is the ability to stay alive, considering you murdered Lorenzo Cappelletti.”

“We can survive on our own,” Alonso huffs.

“No, you can’t. There’s no co-existing in Balti?—”

“We already know this,” Gabriel speaks over me. “That’s why we’re returning tomi tierra.”

I stiffen.

Mi tierra?My land? Meaning Mexico?

The slightest flicker of hope sparks in my chest. “You’re leaving?”

“We’releaving,” he corrects. “Your mother and your aunts have already made their way across the border. They’re excited for you to meet them there.”

The spark dies before it can ignite. But Gabriel voluntarily leaving my life was a stupid thing to hope for anyway. I should’ve known better. “Then I look forward to seeing them.”

He cocks a brow. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I’ll go to Mexico,” I concede. Gabriel has struggled to keep me contained before. Hopefully he’ll struggle again. “But you still need to return Salvatore to his family. They’ll follow us if you don’t. And I don’t want to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”

Gabriel turns to his prisoner, allowing me an unobstructed view of Salvatore whose breathing grows more labored, his body a beaten mess held together by nothing but pride and determination.

“What do you think, Mr. Costa?” Gabriel asks, his voice cool, almost bored. “Do you think your brothers will let us stay if we release you?”

“I’d rather die,” Alonso growls.

Salvatore bares his teeth, nostrils flared. “And you will, with or without me here to see it through.”

“Stop it,” I warn them. “There’s no need for anyone else to die.”

“She’s right.” Gabriel concedes with a calculating gleam in his eyes. “As long as you can prove we’re not about to traffic precious mafia cargo with us to Mexico.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a small pharmacy box. “Take one of these now and another in twenty-four hours. Then I will agree to release him.”

The hollow pit in my chest spreads. “What are they?”

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