Page 174 of The Contract

Carved from rock. Framed in bars.

And bolted shut with a door that doesn’t fucking open.

I know.

I’ve tried.

Kicked it. Yanked it. Shouted myself hoarse.

Nothing.

It’s the exact same door Zver used.

Same steel. Same vibe. Same club. Only, worse. Probably designed by Dante himself. God, if he was here right now I’d?—

Dante.

Big, stupid tears come fast and hot. I swipe them away, furious.

Stop. Crying won’t help.

I blink back another wave and scan the room again.

Rough stone. Sweat-slick walls. A ceiling so high and dark it might as well be sky.

This place—it feels like something pulled straight out of the Count of Monte Cristo’s worst nightmare. Innocence trapped in stone.

And yeah, maybe that’s what’s keeping me from falling apart.

Vengeance.

The image of Declan’s blood on Da’s blade?

That’s helping.

That’s something.

A string of sobs starts up again. Soft. Fractured. Helpless. Sounds I can hear, but can’t see. A reminder that others have been taken too—and they’re breaking as much as I am.

A fresh wave of tears blurs my vision.

Fear trembles through me. Quiet shivers that come and go, soft…then violent…then still again—before they start all over.

I wrap my arms around myself, searching for warmth in the useless slip of a sleeveless gown.

Dante tried to stop this.

Warn me.

He tore the necklace from my throat like it meant nothing. No hesitation or apology.

But I saw it. The pain in his eyes. I brushed it all away as easily as the blood on his hands and the deep slice across his palm…

And that brutal, beautiful soul I swore I couldn’t read?

It was there. And what did I do?

God.

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