Chapter 2

Declan's fist tightened.

He was about to speak when Isabelle lurched to her feet with a sob and threw herself headfirst into the marble fireplace mantel.

Blood everywhere. Streaming down her face, soaking into the white silk of her blouse.

And still—still—she was begging me.

"If my dying is what it takes for you two to be happy again, then I'll do it willingly."

"I never meant to come between you. I thought—I thought you wouldn't mind, that we were family—"

I went rigid. Frozen in place.

Declan's face drained of all color. His eyes turned crimson in an instant.

He shoved me aside—and caught Isabelle in his arms, tears falling without warning or restraint.

"Belle—Belle, wake up. Open your eyes."

She went limp against him. Declan looked up at me, red-eyed and shaking, disbelief carved into every feature.

There was shock in that look. Rage. And accusation.

He didn't say a word to me.

Not until the family doctor arrived and loaded her onto the stretcher. Not until he was following them out the door.

Then he paused. Turned halfway. His voice like gravel.

"Happy now, Sera?"

The penthouse went silent. Cold drafts seemed to pour straight through my chest.

Tears blurred everything. I slid down against the sofa until I was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around myself, aching in a way that had nothing to do with my body.

I kept seeing it—the moment she hit the marble, the moment he wept.

Declan Marchetti does not cry.

When Declan was twenty-two, men from a rival family shattered his kneecap with an iron pipe. He never made a sound. And my two miscarriages, Declan held me and just said the same thing: "We'll have more. Sera. I'll make it up to you."

But tonight, he cried for Isabelle Laurent.

In that instant, I understood exactly what she meant to him.

And what our ten years together amounted to.

I bit down hard, swallowed the copper taste of blood and bitterness, and sat there until the sky outside turned black.

He came back well after midnight.

Saw me still on the floor. His expression was unreadable, but his tone was pure ice.

"Belle survived. but the blow had left a scar on her forehead."

"She's the most promising student in her program at Juilliard. She shouldn't let a scar ruin her career, the only option is a skin graft."

My eyelids felt like lead. My forehead burned. Every word reached me through a fog.

Before I could respond, Declan steeled himself.

"Sera, you and Belle are practically sisters. You're the only possible donor."

"Besides—if you hadn't pushed her to the edge, she never would have tried to prove her innocence that way."

Then, afraid I'd refuse, he exhaled and crouched in front of me.

Drew me gently into his arms.

"Think of it as one small cut. That's all. Just one. Okay?"

That sentence—I heard it clearly.

My mind dragged me back ten years. Declan drowning in debt, fighting bare-knuckle in underground rings just to survive.

The worst night, the other side demanded they break both his arms—shatter his pride permanently.

I got on my knees and begged. Then I drove a knife into my own body. Seven times. Until they were satisfied.

That night, Declan didn't cry. But his eyes were blood-red.

He swore against my ear: Never again. I will never let anyone hurt you again.

Now he was telling me it was just one small cut.

I was burning alive with fever, barely conscious, and somewhere in the delirium I was twenty-two again, my face pressed into his shoulder.

"I don't want to... I won't..."

"Declan, I don't want to anymore... please, I really don't want to..."

Tears rolled down, soaking half his shirt.

He closed his eyes. His nails dug crescents into his palms.

Three minutes of silence. Then his voice, hoarse:

"Be good, Sera. It won't hurt. It'll be over fast."

"Just get through this one thing, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened. We'll go back to how things were."

"One cut. After that, I'll never do anything you don't like again."

Consciousness slipping, I only shook my head, murmuring the same words over and over.

"I don't want to anymore... I really don't want to..."