Page 93 of Dangerous Vows

“What message?”

Matteo looks me dead in the eye. His voice is even, but under it, I hear the rage. “It was a Serb. One of Milö’s men. He said, and I quote, ‘Give me Amara, or you’re a dead man.’”

My blood goes ice-cold.

I turn away, and my jaw aches from clenching it so hard. My mind flashes to Amara—soft, curled up on an oversized couch dressed in one of my T-shirts, utterly unaware that her name just got pinned to a fucking death warrant.

“And they just let Luca go?” I mutter.

“They didn’t botch it. They wanted you to know they can get close,” Matteo says grimly. “They made a statement.”

“Fuck.” I rake a hand down my face, trying to keep it together and not think about what they would’ve done to her if they’d gotten to her first instead of Luca.

“She can’t know,” I say after a moment.

Matteo narrows his eyes. “She has a right to know.”

“No,” I snap. “Not this. You didn’t see her after the last time—she was already broken. If she finds out they’re this close and if she thinksshe’sthe reason Luca got hurt, it’ll destroy her. She has nightmares as it is.”

“And if she finds out later?”

“She won’t.” I turn to him, my voice steel. “Because we’re going to end this before it gets that far.”

Matteo studies me, and neither of us says anything for a beat. Then he nods slowly.

“Fine. But we need a plan. I’m calling everyone in for a family meeting.”

I nod once. “Good. Because if Miloš thinks he’s going to threaten my family?—”

“He already has,” Matteo quietly murmurs. But there’s something in his tone. This attack affects all of us, but it’s his responsibility to get us through it safely. A long silence stretches between us.

“I’m not losing her,” I say quietly. “Not like this.”

Matteo’s voice is low, resolute. “Then let’s make sure they don’t getthe chance.” I know he’s resigned to winning this war when he pats my back, reassuring me he’s not going to give up.

We turn back toward Matteo’s house, both of us already working through the war raging around us.

And I know one thing for sure:

They should’ve killed me when they had the chance.

AMARA

THE CRUELTY I DON’T UNDERSTAND

When Pietro walks in through the front door, he moves into the kitchen without looking at me.

I follow him, anger rising in my chest.

“Say something,” I snap.

He opens the fridge. “Did you eat today?”

“Really?” I cross my arms. “That’s all you’ve got for me?” I stand with one hand defiantly placed on my hip.

He shuts the fridge, slowly. “You need to keep your strength up.”

“Oh, we’re doingthatagain?” I cross my arms. “Why are we having a daily interrogation about whether I’ve had my vegetables while the city burns outside? You treat me like a patient, not a person.”

---