Three days in the safe room, and I’m starting to understand what isolation does to the mind.
The walls feel closer each morning. The fluorescent lights buzz with a frequency that burrows into my skull. I count ceiling tiles, floor cracks, the number of times guards change shifts outside my door.
Anything to stay sane.
Luca visits once a day, always at different times. Keeping me off balance, I realize. Never letting me anticipate him. He asks questions about my father, about the Romano organization, about anything I might remember from before the wedding.
I answer truthfully because lying takes too much energy.
On the fourth morning, Dominic appears instead.
“You’re being moved,” he says without preamble.
Hope flares, dangerous and bright. “Back to my room?”
“To the chapel. Luca’s
