It wasn't until the talk of the blood union began, until I was folded into his circle in the enclave and met Gianna, that the feeling crept in slowly.

This whole thing had been one-sided from the very start.

My plan had been simple: after the union was sealed, if Tommy was willing to keep his distance from Gianna, I'd come clean about everything. The Valente name. The blood I carried. Then I'd ask my father to give him a place inside the operations, a real chance to be made into something.

Now I could see I'd been blind.

I wrenched free of the hands pinning my shoulders, spun around, grabbed Gianna's collar with both fists, and ripped it apart.

The fabric tore instantly.

Two buttons popped off her blouse, exposing the camisole underneath.

I stared at the terror on Gianna's face and curled my lips into a smile. "You wanted things lively, right? I hope every single day of your life is just as lively."

Gianna shrieked and lunged for my face, nails first. I threw up an arm to block her, snatched the cake tray off the table, and swung it wildly. Nobody in that backwater crowd dared come closer.

"This union is OFF!"

I turned to leave.

A rush of air behind me, and Tommy's palm cracked across my face.

The force knocked me sideways. My vision went black in waves.

Through the dizziness, images flickered past like broken film.

Three years ago, Tommy had run up a debt on the book, owed to the wrong men. The vig collectors showed up at our rental, pounding the door until the frame shook. He hid in the bathroom, too scared to make a sound.

I was the one who stood in the doorway. They slapped me across the face over a dozen times before I finally got them to leave.

When he came out, his eyes were red. He dropped to his knees and swore he'd spend the rest of his life making it up to me, swore he'd kill himself trying to treat me right.

And for a long time after that, he did.

He woke up early every morning to make me porridge. Even when he worked late, he'd rush home just so we could share a meal together.

But now, over some old enclave 'custom,' he'd struck me across the face.

A searing pain tore through my right ear. Something warm and wet trickled down the ear canal.

My eardrums had always been thin. The doctor had warned me that another hard impact could rupture them.

I reached up and touched my ear. My fingertips came away slick with blood.

Tommy pointed a finger at my face. He wet his lips first, his eyes cutting toward Gianna before the words came.

"Didn't I warn you? Today you do everything Gianna says. You had to go and insult me in front of all these people?"

Several pairs of hands seized my shoulders and shoved me toward the bench at the edge of the lawn.

Someone's hand slid along my waist. Another reached around from behind and squeezed the inside of my thigh.

I struggled to stand, but a kick caught the side of my knee and I crumpled to the ground.

One of the groomsmen crouched in front of me with a grin, holding his phone inches from my face, recording a close-up.

I turned my head to dodge it. A hand clamped the back of my skull and held me still.

Gianna finally looked satisfied. She stood off to the side, arms crossed. "See? That's how it's done. It's not a party without a little chaos."

She glanced down at me, then added, "Honestly, Adriana, you brought this on yourself. A little roughhousing is one thing, but you actually hit someone? You ripped my shirt. This wasn't cheap, you know."

Tommy walked over and draped his arm around her shoulders. His voice turned so gentle he sounded like a different man. "Come on. I'll take you out back to change."

Gianna shook her head, the corner of her mouth curling upward. "No need to go through all that trouble. Doesn't Adriana have a backup gown?"

"I'll just wear that. It's not like I think of bridal gowns as anything special. It's just a piece of clothing. What's the harm in me putting it on?"

"Absolutely not!"

I grabbed the edge of the bench and hauled myself to my feet. Blood was still seeping from my ear.

"Nobody touches that dress."

Everyone knew what a wedding gown meant to a bride. I'd spent over a month overseeing every stitch, working with a master seamstress, having it handcrafted to my exact specifications.

The lace pattern along the hem was a design I'd drawn myself.

Something shifted in Tommy's expression. A flicker, like a memory surfacing. His gaze went slightly hollow.

Gianna read the room the way her people always did, finding the strongest current and riding it. She laid a soft hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Come on, caro, don't be so stiff about it. Ade might not think of me as family, but I've always treated her like blood."

"It's just a white dress. I'm not fussy about that kind of thing. It's not like I'm gonna wreck it."

She tilted her head and smiled at me, sweet as poisoned wine. "You're not that small, are you, Ade?"

Whatever hesitation had flickered in Tommy vanished in an instant. He let go of Gianna's shoulder, wet his lips, and cut his eyes toward the biggest man at his side before he jerked his chin at one of the girls. "Go get the dress."

I held his gaze. "Tommy. Don't you dare."

He didn't look at me. His voice was low but it left no room. "Gianna put more into this union than anybody. Letting her try on a dress isn't gonna kill you. She'll give it back."

The girl came running with the gown. I lunged for it.

Before my fingers even grazed the fabric, two of his men shoved me aside. I stumbled and slammed into the corner of a table, pain shooting through my lower back until my legs went numb.

Gianna took the gown and slipped it on right there in front of the whole enclave. She smoothed the skirt, did a slow little spin, and smiled with her eyes curved into crescents.

The pose. The look in her eyes. Anyone wandering in off the road would have sworn she was the one bound to Tommy today.

Someone in the crowd started whistling.

Tommy didn't step away. He let his gaze drift down over the dress on her body, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

I stood there watching the two of them side by side, and suddenly I wanted to laugh.

The dress was mine. The union was mine. The groom was mine.

But in that moment, I was the outsider.

I fixed my eyes on Tommy. My voice had gone raw. "Do you even remember whose blood union this is?"

Gianna's smile vanished. She lowered her head and fiddled with the hem of the gown, her eyes flicking once to the side before she found her line, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ade, I'm just no good with other girls. Do you really hate me so much? If I did something wrong, just tell me, please. Don't be like this."

Her eyes turned red as she spoke.

Tommy whipped around and glared at me, his voice loud enough to carry across the whole yard. "Are you finished? Gianna's been helping out of the goodness of her heart and you've been pitching a fit since the second she got here. What is it you want?"

I pointed at the gown on Gianna's body. My finger was shaking. "She ruined my union!"

"Ruined your union?" Tommy let out a cold laugh and stepped closer.

"Let me tell you how it goes out here. The rougher the hazing, the stronger the marriage. That's old custom. You're a city girl. That it? Deep down you think you're better than us? Better than me?"

He had the floor now and he knew it. He turned to the guests, arms spread wide, voice climbing. "All of you, take a good look! This is the city wife I brought home! Can't stomach a little wedding fun, and she says she loves me?"

The enclave jeered.

Gianna tugged lightly at his sleeve and murmured something into his ear. Tommy patted her hand, his voice gone so gentle it was unrecognizable. "It's all right. I'll handle her."

Then he turned back to me. His eyes went cold. A faint, unreadable smugness sat at the corner of his mouth.

"Since you won't show any respect, don't blame me for what comes next."

He cocked his head toward the men beside him.

Under the table's edge, without looking down, I turned the thin gold band on my finger one full rotation.

I had barely taken half a step back when a deep, heavy roar rolled in from overhead.

Every head in the yard turned skyward at once. The jeering died in their throats.

A silver-white jet was descending through the clouds, the Valente crest on its fuselage blazing under the sun.