Page 173 of The Contract

Powerless, my knees buckle, nearly enough to cave. What if something happened to Dante? Because of me.

Because I was too wrapped up in slapping him and hating him and, fuck, wishing him dead to realize everything he did…was for me.

“What about him?” I ask, tears pricking my eyes. My voice barely makes it out. A whisper, scraped raw.

No, no, no. Nothing can happen to him. Not because of me.

His smirk curls back into place. “Well…” He leans in just enough. “That was him. Getting blown to fucking bits.”

CHAPTER 59

Riley

Mila’s breath is shallow. Uneven. Like her body’s still fighting off whatever they dosed her with.

And I just stand there, useless and watching.

There’s nothing else to do.

It’s been at least an hour of me shaking the bars, scaling the walls, fighting off waves of tears racing to get out of me.

Dante can’t be dead. He can’t be.

I want to throw up, ball up in a corner and implode, but I don’t. Mila needs me.

Her lashes flutter now and then—soft, restless tremors, like she’s still fighting in her sleep.

She cried herself unconscious.

I’m not so lucky.

Not with my heart racing.

Not with my skin wired and buzzing like it’s bracing for the next blow.

Not when my brain keeps replaying every bad decision that led us here, frame by frame, like a film I can’t shut off.

I’ve tried for Da’s knife. Three times now.

It rests just beyond reach, glinting in the low light like it knows exactly what it’s doing.

Mocking me. Tempting me.

So close I could grab it if I had two more inches of arm.

For all it’s worth, it might as well be on the fucking moon.

I’ve paced the length of this pit—straight across, in circles, every square inch, over and over.

Crying over Dante.

Plotting revenge.

Looping between heartbreak and bloodlust like a goddamn pendulum.

This isn’t a cell.

It’s a cage.

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