Page 85 of Tormented Oath

The elevator mirrors reflect back yet another version of myself. Dark hair pulled back ruthlessly. Eyes sharper than any blade. Cream dress from our wedding that now feels like armor.

My mother would be proud. My father would be taking notes.

I'm doing exactly what they taught me to do. Create the escape. Survive.

But this time, I'm not just saving myself.

I'm saving everyone.

The hotel lobby blurs around me. Doormen. Guests. Security. All potential threats. All potential opportunities. Old habits die hard, and my brain is working overtime.

Outside, Chicago's night swallows me whole. Cold wind cuts through my dress. It reminds me I'm alive. For now.

My phone buzzes. The Fiori’s location. Another abandoned warehouse. Of course.

Typical mob men. Some things never change.

The car starts with a purr. Tomasso keeps his vehicles in perfect condition. I smile at his professional pride, even in the midst of chaos.

Then I drive into the night. Toward whatever comes next.

Toward a war I intend to win.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Ava

The warehouse loomslike a forgotten promise—Chicago's industrial wasteland and my new stage.

I ease Tomasso's car to a stop, the engine's purr fading into absolute silence. My fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. One last moment to breathe. One last moment before everything changes.

The location couldn't be more perfect for a mob hit if a Hollywood director had designed it. Abandoned. Isolated. No witnesses. No escape routes.

Perfect for them. Potentially perfect for me.

My hand drifts to my stomach. The reason I'm here. The lever I'm about to use in the most dangerous negotiation of my life.

"We're going to be okay," I whisper again. The words sound less like a promise and more like a prayer.

I take inventory, the way my parents taught me.

Phone charged. Check.

Hairpin weapon secured. Check.

Message to Kira sent, protecting the club girls and telling them to get out. Check.

Absolutely terrified but determined. Double-check.

The warehouse sits like a predator, waiting. The industrial metal walls are covered in graffiti, the high windows damaged, like broken teeth. It’s a normal and routine part of the world I'm trapped in, the life I never wanted but can't seem to escape.

I feel a dizzying sense of coming full circle.

Montana feels like a dream now, a fantasy I conjured during quiet moments between cons, between survival. Ranch life. Open skies. Peaceful anonymity.

Instead, I'm here. Pregnant. Married to a mob boss. About to trade myself to save the man I love.

Some fairy tale.

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