Shackled Hearts

Chapter Two

Serafina



Serafina didn’t remember the drive. Her knuckles had been white on the steering wheel, the city a blur of red lights and cold asphalt. By the time she screeched outside Amelia’s townhouse her chest felt like it was splitting in two. She barely remembered slamming the car door, only the sting in her palms when she shoved it closed.

She stormed up the steps two at a time and pounded on the door. Amelia cracked it open, only to be shoved aside as Serafina barrelled through.

“Sera—?”

“I need wine. Lots of it.”

Her cousin blinked at her, barefoot and glowing with the kind of calm only sweats and messy hair could grant. Amelia’s blonde curls were piled in a halo on her head, and she looked like she’d been mid-binge of some crime drama.

“You don’t drink wine this early,” Amelia said slowly, following her into the living room. “Unless something mafia-level awful has happened.”

Serafina spun on her heel, arms crossed tight, pacing like a caged animal. “Oh, you mean like being forced to marry Dante f*****g Romano?”

The words hit the room like dynamite.

Amelia froze. “What?”

“I walked into my dad’s study thinking I was in trouble for blowing off that charity gala,” Serafina spat. “And instead I get that news. Surprise! You’re marrying the son of our rivals for peace and power and bullshit—oh, and by the way, it’s Dante. Of all people.”

Amelia winced as if the name itself had teeth. “Please tell me you punched someone.”

“I told them to go to hell.”

“Close enough.” Amelia tilted her head, studying her. “So does Dante know?”

Serafina exhaled hard, fury still rattling in her bones. “He was there when our fathers announced it.”

Amelia’s eyes went wide. “Shut up! So he was right there!” Then, unable to resist, she asked, “Is he still hot?”

Serafina’s jaw worked, her teeth clenched. The word came out before she could stop it. “Yes. But I heard he was with Eva a few months ago, and I will never forgive him.”

Amelia didn’t argue. Instead, she disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing with a bottle of red she always kept for emergencies—breakups, betrayals, bad meetings. She poured heavy into two glasses. Serafina grabbed hers and downed it like water, the burn hitting her throat but doing nothing to soothe her.

“They think they can just decide this for me,” Serafina snapped. “That I’ll fall in line like some pawn on their chessboard.”

Amelia arched a brow. “You’re not exactly known for compliance.”

“Exactly.” Serafina perched on the couch’s armrest, long legs crossed, glass dangling from her hand like a weapon. “They want to use me to make peace, and they didn’t even ask. They just sat there, like it was a business deal. Like I’m a dowry.”

Amelia leaned against the doorframe, eyes narrowing. “But you and Dante… there’s history.

That’s probably why they chose him.”

Serafina’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “History? That was a lifetime ago. And it ended. Badly.”

The memory stung—Eva’s voice carrying in the courtyard, her smug face as she whispered that she’d had him. The silence after, when Dante hadn’t denied it, hadn’t fought for her. Serafina shoved the thought down before it could choke her.

Amelia didn’t push. Instead, she took another sip. “So what now? What’s your plan?”

Serafina stood again, restless, glass tight in her hand. “I’m not doing it. They can threaten, they can scheme—I don’t care. They want a union? They’ll have to find another bride, because it won’t be me.”

Amelia raised her glass in mock salute. “To rebellion.”

Serafina clinked without a smile. “To freedom.”

They drank, the silence between them loud with unspoken dread.

Then Amelia’s eyes sharpened. “Okay, so let’s say you’re serious about blowing this up. How do we do it?”

“We?” Serafina raised a brow.

“Obviously. I’m not letting you wage a one-woman war without backup. Besides, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to sabotage a wedding since your cousin Carmela’s hideous disaster last spring.”

Serafina’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk. “Fine. We do it together.”

“First question,” Amelia said, setting her glass down. “What’s your dad’s biggest fear?”

“Looking weak,” Serafina answered instantly. “Especially in front of Romano.”

“Okay. So causing a scene or refusing in public could work… but they’ll probably try to control the narrative.”

“Exactly,” Serafina muttered. “Which means we need leverage.”

Amelia tapped her chin. “Like what? Embarrass Dante? Expose something shady?”

“I don’t have dirt on him,” Serafina said. “Haven’t seen him in years. He could be a priest now, for all I know.”

Amelia snorted. “Unlikely. Unless he’s the kind that sleeps with the choir girls.”

The jab made something twist in Serafina’s chest. Not jealousy. Resentment. Still raw. Still dangerous.

“We could fake a scandal,” Amelia suggested. “Start rumors, make the match unappealing. Or stage a horrible date. Let them see how incompatible you are.”

“They won’t care. They’ll say we’ll grow into it.”

“Fake an affair then. Say you’re already in love.”

“With who?”

Amelia shrugged, smirking. “Give me a day. I’ll find someone with good cheekbones and a death wish.”

Serafina paused, wine glass halfway to her lips. “What if I talked to Dante?”

Amelia blinked. “To Dante?”

“Yeah.” Serafina’s voice was firm, colder than her pulse. “If he doesn’t want this either, maybe we can work together to destroy it from the inside.”

Silence stretched. Amelia’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Okay. But if you talk to him and end up stabbing him with a fork, I want full credit for predicting it.”

Serafina allowed herself the faintest smile. “Deal.”