Page 8 of Her Overprotective Fiance

Because our world has always played by its own rules.

"So what choice are we even talking about?" I ask hollowly. "What flowers I fucking want for the wedding? Or if I want a—-"

"The groom, actually.."

"Live band or—-"

Did she just say'groom'?

"Because Giancarlo Marchetti has countered their offer—-"

What the fuck?

"The Marchettis have been our enemies for decades," I choke out.

"Maybe that's why he's offering to marry you as well. To end the rivalry, once and for all."

"B-But why—-"

"—-isnotsomething you can afford to care about."

The Angel of Death stares at me with blue eyes that seem to have seen everything...and lost her soul because of it.

"The only reason you haven't been forced to make a choice hours ago is because of Giancarlo. He brought you here, knowing that even your father would not dare wage war against me in my own territory."

I know there's only one choice for me to make if I want to save myself, but what kind of choice would that be, if my freedom would come at the cost of someone else losing theirs?

The Marchettis could've ended the rivalry between ourfamigliea long time ago if they had wanted to. All they had to do was annihilate us, and they would've been able to do so easily.

If they wanted to.

But they never had.

And so Giancarlo Marchetti wanting me as a bride to end the feud?

Bullshit.

"I know what you're thinking—-"

It's more the sharpness of her tone than her actual words that make me look at the Angel of Death.

"But you're only fooling yourself. Turning yourself into a martyr by marrying the Martino heir won't achieve anything. He'd have broken you in weeks, and your father won't give a shit."

"That's still not reason enough—-"

"Saying no to Giancarlo is just taking the self-righteous coward's way out," the other girl snaps. "You'refifteen,not five. So start acting like it. We don't always get to choose how we live, but we can choose how we die. The Marchettis want to help you. Let them. And if you still want to die, then make your death count and dieforthem instead."

Blood

MEDICAL PERSONNEL OFLa Torremarch inside my room as soon as I've made my choice. All the wires and tubes are disconnected, and my protests are ignored as they lower me to a wheelchair. It's only when they've rolled me straight into a private lift that I realize that was my last glimpse of the Angel of Death.

I haven't even had the chance to say goodbye or thank her, and my chest squeezes at the thought for some reason.

Armed security flank me on each side as they escort me to the helipad. Their expressions remain stoic as they help me into the chopper. I'm airborne in mere moments, and numbness coats my entire body as I watchLa Torregradually shrink until I can no longer see it.

Minutes pass, but my brain feels sluggish, and it feels like I'm only capable of thinking a single thought per minute.

Does my father even...knowI'm gone?

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