Page 103 of Savage Union
"Yes, that one."
"Okay!" Sofia darts from the room, her footsteps fading down the hallway.
Elena immediately turns to me, moving closer. "What's going on? You look like you're about to combust."
"I need your help," I say, checking the doorway to ensure we're truly alone. "It's about the Irish."
Elena's expression shifts, wariness replacing curiosity. "What about them?"
"I need you to contact Liam." I grip her wrist, my urgency evident in the press of my fingers. "Tell him to call it off. Whatever they're planning against Vito—it needs to stop."
She stares at me, disbelief widening her eyes. "Are you serious? After everything you told me?"
"I know how it sounds?—"
"It sounds like Stockholm syndrome," she cuts in, voice harsh despite its low volume. "He's messed with your head, Rina."
"It's not that simple." I release her wrist, running a hand through my hair. "Things have... changed."
"Changed how?" Her gaze is piercing, uncomfortably perceptive. "What's he done to you?"
I can't bring myself to explain the intimacy that's developed between Vito and me—the way my body responds to his touch, the unexpected tenderness he sometimes shows, the complex emotions that tangle inside me whenever I'm in his presence.
"It doesn't matter," I deflect. "What matters is that I can't let them kill him."
Elena's eyes narrow. "You're sleeping with him."
Heat flushes my cheeks. "That's not?—"
"You are." She steps back, scrutinizing me. "Holy shit, Rina. You've fallen for him."
"I haven't fallen for anyone," I insist, though the protest sounds hollow even to my own ears. "This is about protecting my family."
"Your family is precisely why we made this arrangement with the Irish in the first place!" Elena hisses, glancing toward thedoorway to ensure we're still alone. "To free you all from men like your father. Men like Vito."
"Vito isn't like my father." The defense comes automatically, surprising us both.
Elena stares at me in stunned silence before shaking her head slowly. "Listen to yourself. A few weeks ago you wanted him dead. Now you're defending him?"
"I'm not defending him," I protest, though the words ring false. "I'm just saying—the situation is more complicated than I initially thought."
"Complicated." She repeats the word with bitter amusement. "That's one way to put it."
I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "Look, I just need you to get a message to Liam. Tell him I want out of our arrangement."
Elena's laugh is sharp, cutting. "You think it's that easy? You promised yourself to him, Rina. In exchange for your father's death."
"Which Vito took care of instead."
"That doesn't matter to the Irish." She moves closer again, voice urgent. "Liam sees you as his property now. A prize Vito stole from him."
The phrasing sends a chill through me. "I'm not property."
"In their world—in this world we're both trapped in—that's exactly what you are." Her expression softens with genuine concern. "They're going to come for you, Rina. Whether I deliver your message or not."
Desperation claws at my chest. "There has to be a way to stop this."
"There isn't." Elena runs a hand through her hair, a gesture of frustration I've known since childhood. "The Irish are using this as their excuse. They've wanted to move against the Italians for years, and now they have the perfect pretext—avenging adishonored agreement, reclaiming what they see as rightfully theirs."
