The car stopped at an abandoned dock. The air was thick with the briny smell of sea breeze and diesel.

A kidnapper shoved me out of the car at gunpoint, while Sofia was led out of a van on the opposite side.

Two groups of men pushed us toward the middle.

As we passed each other, I saw Dante quickly stride over to Sofia and untie the rope around her wrists. Luca followed close behind, pulling Sofia into his arms and pressing his chin to the top of her head.

I had long stopped expecting anything. But a bitter ache still spread through my chest, as if someone had gripped my heart.

The next second, someone looped a coarse rope around me from behind. It cut into the flesh between my neck and arms. Then, they slapped ice-cold tape over my mouth, sealing it tight.

Two men dragged me into a shipping container deep inside the dock, and the iron door was locked from the outside.

I was locked inside that dark shipping container for 48 hours.

Their methods weren't complicated, but they were brutal. They used fists, belt buckles, cigarette butts, and cold water.

There wasn't a single patch of unbroken skin left on my body. Blood seeped into my clothes, and after they dried, fresh blood soaked them soft all over again.

On the third day, the rival family's Capo kicked the door open and walked in. He crouched down in front of me and grabbed my hair, yanking my face up.

Looking at me, he said with genuine confusion in his voice, "It's been two days, and not a single person from your family has even called to negotiate. Are you really the Moretti family's Principessa?"

I licked my split lips and tasted blood.

"My family does have a Principessa, but it's not me."

He stood up and pulled a syringe from his pocket. Then, he flicked the barrel, eyeing the clear liquid inside.

"This shot will amplify your pain ten times over." He pressed the needle against my arm. "If your family doesn't give back the business they took, I'll saw off both your useless legs right below the knee. And you'll feel every second of it, clear as day."

I pressed my right thumb against the metal bangle on the inside of my wrist and twisted hard.

But nothing happened.

The spring-loaded knife didn't pop out.

I twisted it again, but all I felt on my fingertips was an empty slot.

That little move pissed off the rival family's Capo. He grabbed my wrist and jammed the needle in.

The moment the solution entered my veins, I felt as if my entire body had been plunged into boiling oil. My muscles began to spasm uncontrollably, my teeth clenched together with a grinding sound, and cold sweat poured from every pore.

It hurt, even more than the pain of poison burning through my organs in my previous life.

I didn't know how long had passed before the Capo threw a phone at my feet.

"Make the call. If no one picks up, don't blame me for what happens next."

I called Papa, but no one answered. I dialed Uncle Vittorio's number next, and he didn't pick up as well. The third call went to Luca. It rang six times before connecting.

"Isabella." He sounded tired. In the background, I could hear the murmur of voices and the beeping of machines.

"Where are you?" My voice was shaking, though I couldn't tell if it was from rage or the lingering effects of the drug.

"The hospital. Sofia had quite the scare, so she's been emotionally unstable. Don Moretti brought the whole family here to keep her company." After a pause, he added, "Just hold on a little longer. I'll figure some—"

"You said you would keep me safe," I said, cutting him off. "You also said the spring-loaded knife would save my life in a critical moment, but why was it empty?"

The line went silent for three seconds.

"Sofia said she was scared, so I gave her the backup set first. I forgot that the blades in yours were already used up."

I closed my eyes, my blood running cold from the top of my head all the way down to my feet.

He'd given the backup set to Sofia and forgotten that the blades in mine were already used up.

Two lifetimes, and here he was giving me the same excuse.

I hung up without saying another word.

The rival family's Capo had finally run out of patience. He pulled out a serrated knife from behind his waist. Then, he crouched down and pressed the blade just below my left knee.

"Since no one wants you—"

A deafening engine roar exploded from above, and the shipping container's iron door dented inward with a hollow boom. The next strike tore the door from its frame.

A figure walked in, silhouetted against the light.

It was Leonardo Castro!

The killing intent radiating from him was so thick it almost took physical form. The men behind him had already taken down all the guards outside before he even stepped through the door.

His eyes swept over my split lip, the burn marks from cigarette stubs, the blood seeping through my clothes, and my still-convulsing limbs.

His pupils contracted sharply, and his usually stoic face was overtaken by pure, naked fury.

"Cecilia," he shouted.

He was the only person who called me by my middle name.

In three strides, he was at my side. Without a care for the blood and filth on the ground, he dropped to one knee.

He shrugged off his suit jacket, still warm from his body, and draped it around my shaking shoulders. Then, he gathered me into his arms, his chin resting on top of my head.

"I'm sorry for being late," he whispered in a voice thick with anguish.