The East River hit like a block of solid ice, searing straight through my clothes to the bone.

I didn't fight it.

I let the current drag me down, my mind fixed on one thing: home.

Would Mom bake her chocolate cake now?

Then a hand locked around my wrist, yanking me back up to the surface.

I hacked up river water, as a voice roared in my ear.

"Viola Rossi! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

I blinked the water from my eyes.

Draven was on the shore beside me, face white as a sheet, coughing hard.

But his eyes never left mine, sharp and furious.

"Rosa's suffered enough because of you," he snarled.

"You think dying lets you weasel out of what you did?"

I stared at him, quiet.

"You've spent four years breaking me down. Isn't my death exactly what you wanted?"

He froze.

For a second.

His eyes went red, his jaw tight.

"Rosa just got back," he rasped, voice breaking.

"You owe her an apology. At the very least."

Looking at the wet, red-rimmed anger in his eyes, a dull ache twisted in my chest.

I remembered the Draven from four years ago, broken after the Valentino family hit, sitting alone in the dark, eyes burning with rage and grief until I'd knelt down and said, "C'mon. You have to sleep."

But what right did he have to hurt?

Four years of his maid's torments, none happened without his say-so.

Fine.

They wouldn't let me die here.

I turned and walked toward the highway, and he followed, step for step.

He said, voice cold.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until you're off Costa property. I'm taking you to Vincent. After that, you live or die? I don't give a fuck."

I stopped.

Vincent Rossi, my own blood brother, the Rossi family underboss.

The man who'd disowned me.

I hadn't set foot in the Rossi house since he'd thrown me out.

But maybe going back was the fastest way to get what I wanted.

The Rossi estate was a flurry of chaos.

Maids rushed to clean Rosa's suite, the yard overflowing with her favorite datura flowers.

Only my brother would plant poison in his own backyard.

Vincent stood in the drive, a bright smile I hadn't seen in years on his face, holding a gift box.

The smile died the second he saw me.

"You've got some nerve showing up here," he said, flat.

I stood frozen.

This was the brother I'd grown up with.

Mom and Dad dead before we hit our teens, it had just been the two of us.

I'd spent years schmoozing other crews, cutting deals, risking my life to get him a seat at the Costa table.

I remembered the night I'd driven off a cliff to outrun the cops, and he'd burst into the hospital half-naked, sobbing, holding me tight.

I don't care about the power, he'd said.

If I lose you, I lose everything.

Then Rosa showed up.

The girl with the sad eyes and the fake sob story, and suddenly I wasn't his sister anymore.

He'd quit the family's drug business to cook up fancy meds for her "condition", snapped at me for calling her out on spitting them out.

When she vanished, he'd wiped my name from the family books.

"You don't come back until she does," he'd said.

Now he stood still, stared at me.

Draven shifted, voice tight.

"Rosa's back. Marco cut loose every other woman. She snapped. Tried to kill herself twice tonight, right in front of me."

Vincent scoffed, shaking his head.

"You're the sharpest consigliere in the Five Families, and you fell for it?"

He smirked at me.

"I know Viola. She'd never actually go through with it."

Draven's shoulders relaxed, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh huffing out of him, like he was mocking his own panic.

Vincent lifted the box, his eyes cold with contempt when he looked at me.

"I'm taking this to Rosa. I don't have time for your games. Be gone before I get back, or—"

He never finished the sentence.

I plucked a datura petal from the bush beside me, and put it in my mouth.

Vincent's face went white as a sheet.

Datura was deadly poison, but Rosa loved it, so Vincent let it bloom into a whole damn sea across the Rossi estate grounds.

Once, I'd begged him to tear it out, scared some maid or kid would take a bite by accident.

Rosa had cried until she passed out over it.

"Viola hates me this much, Vincent? She won't even let you grow me flowers?"

He'd sneered at me.

"Everyone knows it's poison. Who the hell's gonna eat it? Stop being this dramatic!"

I never thought it'd be the key to my way out.

The second the petal hit my tongue, my body screamed to gag it up.

I forced it down.

This time, I was finally going home.

Vincent dropped the gift box and lunged, slamming his palm against my back, rough fingers prying my mouth open to dig it out.

"Spit it out!" he roared, face purple with rage and panic.

"Are you really that fucking suicidal?!"

He and Draven both grabbed at my throat, screaming at me to cough it up.

"So Marco dumped you, and this is how you react?!"

Vincent's eyes were red, voice cracking.

"Rosa and Marco were made for each other! You still had some sad little fantasy?!"

He screamed for the maids to bring ipecac, shoving the plant down my throat until I threw up until there was nothing left.

A ragged, bitter laugh tore out of me, breath thin as paper.

"You never even checked. You just decided I hurt Rosa, and threw your own sister out like trash."

Vincent's face went white, mouth hanging open with nothing to say.

Then Draven's phone buzzed.

His face drained of color in an instant.

"Vincent! Don Marco's orders: bring Viola back to the estate right now. Rosa… she's gone again."

They locked eyes, then both turned to glare at me, rage burning hot.

"That's why you put on this little suicide show, huh?"

Vincent snarled, yanking me up by my arms.

"To cover your tracks. Where'd you hide her? What the hell are you planning next?!"

I had no clue where she was.

But this was perfect.

They'd kill me for her.

They dragged me back to the Costa estate, threw me to my knees in the main hall.

Marco sat on the Don's throne, staring down at me like I was a bug.

Beside him stood Luca Marcelli, my childhood betrothed, the man who'd torn up our engagement papers in front of every crew in the city for Rosa.

I'd been the laughingstock of the Five Families ever since.

Marco didn't waste words.

He leaned forward, fingers locking around my jaw, forcing my head up.

"Where is Rosa?"

I stared at the man who'd once been my husband, acid regret burning in my gut.

Marco Costa had not been born untouchable.

Four years ago, the Costa elders wanted him cut out of succession.

Too reckless, too young, too easy to provoke. His own father had been ready to name another heir.

I was the one who saved his crown.

I sat through three nights of negotiations with men who smiled at me like I was a pretty little fool, traded favors sharp enough to draw blood, and dug up enough secrets to make every elder in that room lower his eyes.

By dawn, Marco had the votes.

By noon, the family called him heir apparent.

And me?

They called me ambitious.

Vicious.

Dirty.

Marco asked me to marry him that same night. He promised me the title of Donna, the respect of the family, and a place beside him no one could touch.

Then Rosa showed up.

After her first disappearance, he'd put me through family punishment.

The whip had torn into my stomach, blood soaking the Persian rug.

That's when I'd found out I was pregnant.

The baby had come and gone before I even knew it was there.

I said nothing.

A flicker of cold murder crossed Marco's eyes.

"Looks like you need to be taught a lesson before you talk."

He nodded for his men to bring in the whips, told Draven and Vincent to do it themselves.

I didn't want to die tortured.

I fought, but the first whip crack hit my back, white-hot agony exploding through every nerve.

My lips trembled.

"Just kill me," I rasped.

Marco watched, a cold smirk on his face.

"Still got that mouth on you. Where is she?"

I lifted my head, face pale, and bared my teeth in a hideous grin.

"Rosa? I killed her. You all love her so bad, don't you? Go on. Kill me. Avenge her."

Marco's eyes went bloodshot.

Marco snatched the silver letter opener from the table and pressed its point beneath my chin.

He only wanted to break me, to scream Rosa's location out of my throat.

But I didn't flinch.

I locked my hand around his wrist, Then I drove myself forward.

The point slid deep beneath my collarbone, and warm blood gushed from the wound.

My vision bled black at the edges.

Right as the blade sank deep, Rosa's voice drifted in from the hall doors, sweet and innocent.

"Everyone's here? Perfect, I baked a cake… oh my goodness, why is there so much blood?"