Liana POV:

The VIP ward of the Syndicate's private hospital smelled heavily of antiseptic and the cloying sweetness of expensive funeral lilies.

Sienna and I moved down the long, heavily guarded corridor. Men in dark suits lined the walls, their hands resting over holstered weapons, their heads turning in unison to follow our progress.

We reached the double doors of Camilla's room. Through the rectangular glass viewing panel, I could see Gabriel by the bed. His suit jacket was gone, and his white shirt was stained with Camilla's blood. He was holding her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles with a gentleness I had never known him to possess.

Camilla was awake, a bandage wrapped around her head and an IV dripping fluids into her arm making for a pitiful sight.

I drew a slow breath and pushed the door open.

The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor in the ward ceased for a half-second. Gabriel, who had been stooped over the bed, straightened his spine with a jerk, his shadow falling across the white sheets as his gaze fixed upon Sienna. He dropped Camilla's hand and drew a gun from his waistband in one fluid motion.

He pointed the barrel directly at Sienna's chest.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in your heart right now," Gabriel said, his voice a low rasp, like stones grinding together. "You tried to murder my unborn child."

Sienna did not flinch. Her hands remained relaxed at her sides.

"I didn't touch her, Gabriel," Sienna said, her tone completely flat. "She grabbed my coat and threw herself backward. There are street cameras on that corner. Pull the footage yourself."

Gabriel's finger tightened on the trigger, the skin of his knuckles stretching white under the harsh fluorescent lights.

From the hospital bed, Camilla let out a weak, trembling sob.

"Gabriel, please," Camilla cried. Her voice was fragile, an instrument perfectly tuned to break his heart. "She called our baby a bastard. She said she would make sure I never walked again if I didn't leave the city. I was just trying to apologize to her. I slipped because I was so scared."

It was a flawless performance-she had weaponized her tears with the skill of a master.

Gabriel lowered the gun slightly, but his glare remained fixed on Sienna. He stepped back to the bed and placed a protective hand over Camilla's stomach, a silent vow of retribution.

"The alliance with the Consigliere's faction is severed," Gabriel declared, the words echoing off the sterile walls. "My father will inform the Commission tonight. Sienna, you are dead to me."

Then, he turned his face toward me.

"Liana," Gabriel said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You will marry into my family in three days. The contract will be fulfilled through your Capo father's bloodline."

Sienna sneered at him. "You are a blind, arrogant fool, Gabriel."

I put my hand on Sienna's arm to silence her. I advanced not upon him, but toward the bed, planting my palm on the cold metal frame where the butt of his pistol had just scraped the enamel.

"I accept the blood pact," I said, holding his gaze.

Gabriel looked taken aback. His eyes narrowed, searching my impassive face for a trap.

"But I have conditions," I continued. "If I am to be your wife, we will adhere strictly to the Old Ways. You will personally escort the bride from my father's heavily guarded estate. You will not send your soldiers to fetch me like a package."

Gabriel scoffed. "Is that all?"

"No," I said, pointing a finger at the woman in the bed. "Camilla must formally apologize to Sienna right now. She disrespected a Made Man's daughter in public. That demands restitution."

Camilla's eyes went wide. She looked up at Gabriel, her bottom lip quivering in a pantomime of terror.

"Gabriel, I didn't mean to," Camilla stammered, her voice cracking. "I was just so frightened. I don't know the rules of your world."

Gabriel's demeanor darkened. He holstered his weapon and crossed his arms over his chest.

He looked at me and Sienna with pure disgust, as if we were filth on the soles of his expensive shoes.

"You two are pathetic," Gabriel said, his voice dripping with venom. "You are consumed by petty jealousy. Camilla possesses a purity that neither of you will ever understand. She doesn't belong in this filth. It sickens me that the Commission is forcing me to tie my life to a woman like you."

I kept my face a blank mask. I forced myself to count the slow, deliberate ticks of the second hand on the wall clock-one, two, three. There was no cold sweat, no dizziness.

"Do you wish to abandon the Syndicate's arranged marriage entirely?" I asked him, my voice betraying no emotion.

Gabriel moved toward me, his height casting a shadow that fell across my face.

"I do," he admitted, his voice a harsh whisper. "I want nothing to do with you. But I need the Western territories, so I will play this game. But understand this, Liana-if you ever step out of line as my wife, if you ever look at Camilla the wrong way, you will face my brutal discipline. I will break you."

I looked up at him, at the man who had locked me in a cage for years. But this time, I knew I held the key.

"I acknowledge your terms, Don Gabriel," I said coldly. "My father's estate will be ready for the ceremony in three days. I advise you not to be late to your own wedding."

Without waiting for his dismissal, I turned around and walked out of the room.

Sienna followed right behind me. The heavy hospital doors swung shut, cutting off the sound of Gabriel murmuring comforts to his mistress.

We walked down the corridor in a taut silence until we reached the elevator banks.

The moment we were alone, Sienna grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sienna demanded, her fiery temper finally breaking through her calm facade. "Why are you willingly walking back into his cage? We know how this ends, Liana. He will destroy you again."

I looked at my former rival, a woman who understood the depths of Gabriel's cruelty as much as I did. I saw the genuine fear in her eyes.

My lips curved into a slow smile, but the expression did not reach my eyes.

"I'm not the one taking the vow," I whispered.

Before Sienna could process my words, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Two imposing figures emerged from the shadows near the stairwell: my father, the Capo of the Western faction, and Sienna's father, the Consigliere.

Their faces were red with fury; they had heard about the chaos on the street and the severed alliance.

"Liana!" my father roared. His massive hands seized my upper arms, his grip tight enough to bruise. "What kind of mess have you dragged our Family into?"

Beside him, Sienna's father grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her away from me.

"You are both coming home right now," the Consigliere barked. "This foolishness ends tonight."

The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off Sienna's panicked face. I closed my eyes, counting down the hours until I would hand Gabriel Rossi a bride he never expected.

Liana POV:

The air outside my father's sprawling estate was humid and thick with the smell of ozone from an approaching storm.

Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, their assault rifles slung across their chests.

I stood on the massive stone balcony, my gaze fixed on the winding driveway below.

Behind me, my father paced like a caged predator. He was smoking a cigar, the heavy, acrid scent of tobacco mixing with the smell of the incoming rain.

Sienna's father, our faction's Consigliere, stood by the glass doors, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Sienna sat on one of the patio chairs, watching me with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

"You have lost your mind, Liana," my father growled.

He stopped pacing and pointed his cigar at me.

"Gabriel openly flaunts his civilian whore in the streets. He points a loaded gun at the Consigliere's own daughter. And you still agree to marry him? I curse your blind, pathetic devotion to that boy!"

I turned slowly from the marble railing to face him.

"It is not devotion, Papa," I said calmly, my voice devoid of the desperate emotion that used to rule me. "It is business."

Sienna's father scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound.

"Business? Gabriel insulted my family's honor. He severed a decades-old alliance over a clumsy, insignificant civilian."

"Sienna dodged a bullet," I told the Consigliere, meeting his hardened gaze without flinching.

"Gabriel's house is a sinking ship, rotting from the inside. But the marriage pact is non-negotiable. It is the only thing that secures our faction's absolute control over the Westside smuggling routes. We need that power to survive what's coming."

My father threw his cigar onto the stone floor and crushed it beneath his expensive leather shoe.

"Your life is worth more than pieces of territory, Liana!" my father yelled, the vein in his neck bulging.

"I will not hand my only daughter over to a man who will treat her like disposable garbage. We will break the damn pact. We will go to war if we have to."

Sienna stood up from her chair, her expression resolute.

"Listen to your father, Liana," Sienna urged, stepping forward to grab my hand.

"Break the pact. We can run. My family will back yours with every gun we have. We can fight Gabriel together."

I looked at the three of them. They were ready to bleed for me.

The memory hit me like a physical blow: in my past life, I had let my father go to war for my broken heart, and it had cost him his holdings, his men, and ultimately, his life.

"I will not let a single drop of our Family's blood spill over a man like Gabriel Rossi," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.

I walked over to the patio table and picked up the heavy leather folder containing the marriage contract.

I tossed it onto the glass surface, the slap of leather echoing in the quiet night.

"Read the exact wording of the Omertà," I instructed.

My father frowned. He exchanged a confused glance with the Consigliere before he stepped forward and opened the folder.

"I am not the bride," I revealed, letting the words hang in the air.

The silence that fell over the balcony was absolute, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.

"The contract only requires a woman possessing the direct bloodline of our Capo faction to seal the Omertà," I explained, tapping a manicured nail against the parchment. "It does not explicitly state my name."

My father's eyes widened as he scanned the old Sicilian text.

He looked up at me, a horrifying realization dawning on his weathered face.

"No," my father whispered, shaking his head in denial.

"Yes," I said, my lips curving into a humorless smile. "Valerie."

My father slammed the folder shut with enough force to rattle the glass table.

"Absolutely not!" he roared.

Valerie was my cousin. She carried our legitimate Family name, having been adopted into our ranks after her own parents were killed in a cartel shootout.

But she was a venomous snake.

"She orchestrated the 'accident' that left your mother permanently paralyzed!" my father shouted, his chest heaving with rage.

"She actively tried to usurp my territory from under me! I let her live only because your mother, in her infinite grace, begged for mercy. I will not elevate that treacherous rat to the position of Mafia Queen!"

I moved to meet him, halting in the path of his cigar smoke, and at that moment a flicker of lightning from the balcony’s edge threw my shadow long against the flagstones, eclipsing his own.

"That is exactly why she is the perfect choice," I said, my voice dropping to a low, chilling calm.

"Valerie is inherently malicious. She is endlessly hungry for power. She is treacherous to her very core. Her ruthless ambition is the perfect poison to inject straight into Gabriel's life."

My father stared at me, momentarily stunned into silence.

He saw the cold, unforgiving calculation in my eyes.

He saw, perhaps for the first time, that the naive, foolish girl who used to cry over Gabriel was gone.

"I will give Gabriel exactly what he deserves," I promised my father, my vow sealed with icy conviction. "A wife who will tear his house apart from the inside out."

Three days later, beneath an overcast sky, the traditional Sicilian wedding took place.

The courtyard of my father's estate was filled with hundreds of Made Men, their tailored suits hiding concealed weapons.

The air was thick with the rich smell of roasted meat and the sweet tang of expensive wine.

I stood on the second-floor balcony with Sienna, hidden in the shadows of the stone pillars.

Down below, Gabriel stood rigidly by his armored car.

He wore a striking, blood-red suit.

His face was a tight mask of furious impatience, his jaw clenching repeatedly.

With a heavy groan, the massive wooden doors of the estate opened.

The bride emerged into the dim daylight.

She was covered from head to toe in a heavy antique lace veil that completely obscured her features.

Two of my father's Capos escorted her down the stone steps and handed her over to Gabriel.

Gabriel did not even look at her.

He grabbed her arm roughly and shoved her into the back of the car.

He slammed the heavy door shut and got into the driver's seat.

Bound by duty, the Don took his veiled, venomous bride away to his fortress.

Sienna leaned against the cold stone railing beside me.

We watched the motorcade of black SUVs pull out of the wrought-iron gates and disappear down the mountain road.

"I wonder who will draw blood first," Sienna mused, a dark amusement dancing in her eyes. "The treacherous cousin, or the manipulative mistress?"

I turned away from the balcony.

"It doesn't matter," I said, adjusting the strap of my bag. "They will destroy each other."

I picked up my duffel bag from the floor.

"Let's go," I told Sienna. "I have a private jet waiting on the tarmac. I've secured a remote, untraceable estate in Iceland. We are going to disappear."

Sienna grabbed her own bag. A sharp, knowing smile spread across her lips.

"Gabriel and Camilla just signed their own death warrants," Sienna said.

"Yes, they did," I replied, stepping into the shadows.