Luca

15 - I don't want to die, but I will

Sofia

The shock of it steals my breath before I can even think to hold it. Cold floods my nose, and my mouth and lungs burn instantly. I claw at Dray’s wrist, nails breaking against his skin, but he doesn’t budge. The world narrows to the thrashing of my own limbs, the muffled sound of my scream trapped underwater.

Then air.

I gasp, cough, and water drips from my chin onto the floor as I fall to my knees.

Is this lunatic actually trying to kill me?

Dray crouches beside me, wiping his wet hand on his slacks. “That was three seconds,” he says. “Luca would have lasted at least three minutes, and he wouldn’t have struggled. What is the point of you?”

I spit, my throat raw. “I’m not—"

Dray grabs my hair again.

This time, I know what’s coming.

My body arches instinctively as Dray drags me up and forces me under, but I don’t fight. Not yet. Struggling will only drown me faster. I count the hammering of my pulse instead—one, two, three—letting the water fill my ears until the world sounds like the inside of a seashell.

Four. My lungs scream.

Five. Black spots bloom behind my eyelids.

Dray yanks me up just as my muscles go slack. I collapse forward, retching water onto Dray’s polished loafers. He lets me cough, lets me drag in ragged breaths, before tilting my chin up with the toe of his shoe. “You’re still breathing,” he observes. “That’s more than the last girl got.”

Oh, great. So, this monster has drowned women in the past!

My fingers tremble against the concrete. “I’m not her.”

Dray’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Prove it.” He reaches into his jacket—slow, deliberate—and tosses a knife on the ground in front of me. The blade clatters against the floor, spinning to a stop near my knee. "Your father’s meeting mine tomorrow. Luca will be there."

I look up at Dray. If he’s going to say what I think he is, then I don’t know what I’ll do. God, I am so scared right now! I don’t know if what he’s saying is true or not. I know how these things work. The people keeping you prisoner will lie to you to see how far you’ll go.

Is that what Dray is doing?

Because no one mentioned anything about Papa meeting with Don Vidal tomorrow.

“He’ll have a gun,” Dray continues, crouching to trace the knife’s edge with his thumb. A bead of blood wells, dark against his skin. “And your father? He’ll walk in blind.” He presses the knife into my palm, folding my fingers around the handle. “So, tell me, princess. Would you slit your father’s throat to save my twin?”

The metal warms in my grip. I can see it—the way my father’s eyes would widen, the hot spill of blood over my fingers—but then Luca’s face flickers behind my eyelids. His laugh, the way he’d tucked a strand of hair behind my ear this morning like I was something fragile.

Not that I’d ever get close enough to kill my father. Yes, he’s in his sixties, but he’s quick. He’d kill me before I even blinked!

But Luca. My sweet Luca. He’s never done anything to hurt me. In fact, he’s done his best to show me that he never will. If I could protect him from bad things, then I would.

Dray watches me, unblinking.

I inhale, tasting rust and mildew. I flip the knife and offer him the handle. “I wouldn’t get close enough to smell my father’s aftershave before he killed me. But I would do whatever it took to protect Luca.”

For the first time, something flickers in Dray’s gaze.

Surprise?

Amusement?

He takes the knife, running his tongue over the cut on his thumb. “You’ll wish you’d picked the queen,” he says, and reaches for my hair again.

Fuc.k this. I’m not going to let him keep hurting me!

I twist before Dray’s fingers can close—a move I’d learned watching Marchello spar when I was a child—and drive my elbow into Dray’s ribs. The grunt he lets out is more satisfying than air. Ugh, he’s one of those men who get off on pain! His own and especially someone else’s.

I scramble backward, heels slipping on wet concrete, but Dray catches my ankle and yanks. The back of my head hits the floor, teeth snapping together with a click that rattles my skull.

I kick out at him, turning onto my stomach, trying to get away. But I’m not fast enough because Dray flips me onto my back, one knee pinning my thigh. “That,” he says, pressing the flat of the blade against my cheekbone. “Was almost interesting. Who knew you had such fight in you?” The metal is cold. I can smell the blood on it—his blood. “But Luca wouldn’t fight dirty.” He traces the knife down to my collarbone, the tip catching on the lace of my dress. “So, tell me, why do you?”

My pulse pounds where the blade hovers.

How does he expect me to answer him when my throat is closing up through fear?

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Please, let me go,” I whisper.

Dray goes still. Then he laughs—a real one, sharp and startled. “You think you have a choice?” His thumb brushes the hollow of my throat, right above the knife. “You’re a debt paid in silk and diamond cuts. The only say you get is how pretty you look in the casket.”

My eyes dart from side to side.

He wouldn’t kill me, right?

No, he’s trying to scare me, which he is doing. He’s terrifying me!

“Your brother is right over there, watching, not trying to help you. What kind of brother wouldn’t help his little sister? Try to save her? Marchello doesn’t give a shi.t about you. You know that, right? No one cares about you, Sofia. No one single person on this earth cares if you live or die.”

My heart sinks. I know Dray is just trying to get inside my head, but his words hurt. They hurt because I know they’re true, though I thought my brother cared about me, loved me, even. Marchello always told me that I was his little princess. He’s almost a decade older than me, but that meant nothing. My brother was more like a father to me when I was growing up. He means everything to me, and I don’t want to believe Dray’s words. But Marchello isn’t saying anything!

I know deep down that he can’t. He won’t risk anything worse happening to me. But this hurts so bad.

The knife dips lower, slicing through fabric with a whisper. Cold air hits my stomach, and I whimper.

“Let’s give him a show,” Dray whispers mockingly.

I buck, but his weight is immovable. The blade bites just above my hip—not deep, but enough to draw blood. I hiss, forcing back a scream because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Dray licks his lips. “Still breathing,” he reminds me, and flicks the knife sideways. Another sting. Another stripe of red. And I’m fighting so hard not to cry out, but this is painful! “Still pretty.”

He’s going to leave me scarred at this rate! I don’t know if Dray has cut me deep enough for me to need stitches. Maybe he’s smarter than that, but this sure as shi.t hurts like hell!

Dray leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Question, princess. Your brother..." He presses the handle of the knife into my palm, forcing my fingers tight. “Do you stab him? Or me?”

Dray actually wants me to choose between my brother and a Vidal. I’m never going to choose a Vidal over the only family member who means anything to me.

How would that even be fair?

Yes, it would prove that I’m loyal to the Vidal’s. But I wouldn’t be being loyal to my brother. I love Marchello more than anyone else in this world, and I won’t turn against him. I don’t give a damn if it makes me look unloyal in Dray’s eyes, it wouldn’t be right. Just as it wouldn’t be right if Luca picked my family over his brother.

Dray must know that, right?

But if I stab Dray, I’ll be dead before the blade enters his body. Antonio would blow my brains out without question, and he won’t care what Marchello says.

So, I’m fucke.d!

My fingers convulse around the knife handle, slick with my own blood.

“Luca wouldn’t want me to do this,” I whisper and swallow hard.

Dray’s lips curl. “You don’t know my brother if you think that, little girl…Tick-tock.”

My brother’s voice is a blade of its own. “Let her go, Dray. That’s enough now. She’s nineteen!”

The knife trembles. I can feel Dray’s pulse where his chest presses against my shoulder—steady, mocking. He wants this. Wants me to choose, to break, to prove that I’m as rotten as my father. The blade’s tip hovers between my ribs and the empty air where my brother stands.

I won’t do this. I don’t care what happens to me here, but I will not hurt my brother!

So, I throw the knife away from me. It embeds in the wall with a thunk, quivering between us. Dray exhales, almost disappointed.

“Smart girl,” Dray murmurs, finally lifting his weight off me. He stands, adjusting his cuffs like he hadn’t just carved into my skin. “But not smart enough.” He yanks the knife out of the wall and kicks it back toward me, metal skittering over concrete. “Pick it up.”

My brother steps forward. “Sofia, don’t—"

Dray moves faster. A gun appears in his hand, pressed to Marchello’s temple before the last syllable fades.

My breath catches. I never even saw him reach for it!

I scramble to my feet. “Please, don’t hurt him!” I yell.

“Last chance,” Dray says, eyes locked on mine. “Knife or bullet?”

My brother looks at me, but he doesn’t flinch. This isn’t the first time Marchello had a gun to his head. My brother trained all his life for moments like this. Our own father has done the same thing many times in the past. Marchello learned years ago never to show fear because that’s what the person wants.

But I’m not going to stand here and let Dray hurt my brother. I don’t care how scared I am!

“I will not harm my brother, Dray!” Dray looks at me with wide eyes. “I will never choose anyone over the only person in my family who loves me. My brother is everything to me, just as yours is to you.”

Marchello looks at me, slightly shaking his head. He doesn’t want me to say this, but I won’t lie. I’m not a liar, and I won’t become one just because Dray Vidal wants to hurt me.

“You’d choose your brother over your husband?” Dray smirks.

I swallow hard.

How do I answer that?

How could I choose between my brother and my husband?

It would be different if I were in love with my husband, but I don’t even know Luca. Yes, I’m attracted to him, but that’s not love.

“What do you want me to say, Dray?” I blink slowly. “I don’t even know Luca. Not really. Would I stand by and let someone hurt him? No, I wouldn’t. I’d do whatever I could to protect him. Would I let anyone harm my brother? Not a chance!”

“Would you die for your brother, Sofia?”

I look at Dray and nod. “Yes.”

His eyes, filled with fire, burn into me. “Would you die for Luca?”

Would I die for Luca?

It doesn’t matter how this marriage came to be; the fact is that Luca will be my husband. For the rest of my life, no matter how long or short, we’ll be together. There will never be anyone else for me because that wouldn’t be allowed. Sure, Luca could go out there and have plenty of mistresses. Maybe I’ll know about them, maybe I won’t. But the fact remains that my duty is to my husband. I’ll be loyal to him because that’s what’s expected of me.

I breathe deeply and nod. “Yes, I would die for Luca.”

Dray laughs loudly and tips his head to Antonio. I blink when Antonio walks toward me. My heart is in my throat! He takes a gun from his belt and holds it out to me. I shake my head. I’m not taking that thing! I wouldn’t even know how to hold it.

“Take it!” Dray yells.

I whimper while taking it from Antonio, who then walks away from me. My fingers tremble around the grip.

Dray pushes Marchello to his knees, pressing his own gun to my brother’s temple. “Get to your knees!” He yells at me. I do just that. I get to my knees and try not to whimper. Here’s the game,” he says. “Prove that you’d die for your brother, Sofia. You shoot yourself, or I paint the wall with his brains.”

I don’t want to die.

“It’s okay,” Marchello whispers. He smiles at me, a smile I haven’t seen since I was a little girl. It’s the smile he would give me when our father would beat him in front of me, one that told me everything would be alright, that he was happy to take my punishment.

All my life, Marchello has looked out for me. He protected me when no one else did. I won’t hurt him. Not for anything.

I press the muzzle to my own head, the steel biting into my skin. My heart is racing, my stomach is cramping, and I swallow hard. Marchello’s eyes widen, but I smile.

Dray’s grin widens. “Good girl. Now, end this!”

I wish I’d gotten to see Luca one more time. I wish I could have told him ‘Thank you’ for being so lovely to me. Weirdly, I was looking forward to being Luca’s wife. But now, that will never be. Today wasn’t about loyalty tests; it was about Dray showing me who’s boss. Well, he won. I just hope he has something good to tell Luca about what happened to me. Because I doubt the man I was to marry knew anything about this. I would never believe that.

My hands are shaking so much that I’m scared I’ll drop the gun. But I force myself to hold it steady enough to keep the barrel at my head.

I look at Marchello. “I love you,” I tell him.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” A tear falls from his eye. He doesn’t want me to do this, but I won’t let him die in my place.

I squeeze my eyes shut—and pull the trigger.