Chapter Six
Sophia
My bedroom feels like a prison. The walls, once comforting with their prints of the Louvre, Parisian cobblestone streets, and the Eiffel Tower, now mock me.
Each image of freedom, of a life I imagined, feels like a cruel joke.
When this wedding happens, I’ll be at Raphael’s beck and call.
I’ll never get to go anywhere, do anything for myself.
My father spelled it out in simple English: I’m nothing but a brood mare.
Tears streak down my cheeks as I stare at what I once believed would be my sanctuary, my home.
The future I dreamed of is slipping through my fingers like sand.
My gaze falls on the white wedding dress hanging in my walk-in closet.
Every woman dreams of this moment—her wedding day, the man she loves, the walk down the aisle.
Mine? Halloween costumes and a man who kills for his empire.
A man who will display me like a trophy, just as my father does.
A sudden crash of the door slamming against the wall makes me jump. Maria bursts in, eyes wide and frantic, and grabs my hands. “Pack a bag. We don’t have much time.”
“What?” My voice trembles.
“Move it, Sophia!” She doesn’t wait for me to argue. She strides to my dressing table, lifts my mother’s jewelry box with care, and sets it on the bed. “You’ll want this, right?”
I blink at her, speechless. “What… what are you doing?”
“Busting you out, of course!” Her voice is fierce, but there’s a tremor in it that betrays her fear. “It’s one thing to flirt with The Reaper, it’s another thing entirely to marry him.”
Her eyes glisten with tears as she moves into my closet and emerges with a small, black suitcase. “What do you want to take?”
“They’ll come after me. It’s useless.”
“Yep,” she says, her jaw set tight. “They will. But we’ll be long gone before they even know we’re missing.”
“Maria, you’re not listening. There is no escape.”
Her hands ball into fists and land firmly on her hips. Even with the ‘Ursula’ makeup smeared across her face, she looks like a warrior ready for battle.
“We. Are. Leaving.”
“Maria—” I try again, my voice barely above a whisper, but she cuts me off.
“No!” She storms back into the closet and tosses a t-shirt at me. “Put that on,” she commands, then flips open a chest of drawers with a sharp pull. “And these jeans.”
I catch the garments, heart hammering in my chest. “This is insane,” I whisper, my words barely audible.
“Insane?” she spits back, eyes blazing. “You think it’s sane to marry a man who would kill without hesitation? To let your life be dictated by your father like a chess piece?”
I can’t find the words. I just stare at her, at the fire burning in her gaze. My chest tightens, and a shaky breath escapes me.
Maria crouches to meet my eyes, voice softer now, almost a plea. “Sophia… you have a choice. Take it. Run with me. Please.”
I swallow hard, trembling. Somewhere deep in my chest, a tiny spark of hope flickers.
“Okay.”
Maria smiles. “Good. Stand up so I can undo your dress. We don’t have much time.”
Maria and I move quickly through the dimly lit halls, our footsteps muffled against the carpet. My heart hammers so loud I’m sure anyone nearby could hear it. The suitcase swings against my leg, but Maria’s grip on my hand is firm, guiding me toward the back door.
We slip outside, and relief floods me for a brief second—freedom feels close enough to touch.
My eyes sweep the backyard, taking in the familiar shadows, the hedges, the moonlight glinting off the grass.
We walk at a normal pace until we are out of the lights of the house, then we break into a run toward the fence at the back of the grounds.
Maria goes through first while I keep my eyes peeled for my family’s security—or anyone else who might recognize me.
And then my stomach drops.
The back gates are wide open.
Four guards lie sprawled on the ground, motionless. Blood stains the grass beneath them. My breath catches, and I stumble back, horror tightening my chest.
I exchange a look with Maria. She swallows hard, her face pale, but her jaw is set. She grabs my hand and starts to pull me along.
“Come on, Sophia! We don’t have time! If we stay you’ll be trapped.”
I stop, yanking my hand free. “I can’t let my family get hurt. I can’t just leave them!” My voice shakes with a mixture of fear and anger. “I’m angry at my family, yes, but I can’t… I can’t let them be harmed—or worse!”
Maria’s eyes widen, panic flickering there. “Sophia, we have to go! We don’t know how many more—”
“I don’t care!” My chest heaving. “I can’t turn my back on this!”
Before Maria can protest, I bolt back toward the house, my suitcase forgotten on the lawn. Every step feels like my heart is going to burst from my chest. I skid around the corner and—
He’s there.
Raphael. My body collides with his, and his arms catch me instinctively. I feel the heat radiating off him.
“Raphael—there’s trouble,” I gasp.
“Trouble?” His brow furrows. “What?”
“I—I was leaving!” The words tumble out, desperate and chaotic. “The back gates… the guards—they’re all dead.”
His eyes narrow as he scans the backyard, then back at me. He notices the slight movement behind me and turns sharply. Maria—no longer in her costume—stands frozen, hesitation written across her face.
For a heartbeat, his expression is pure, white-hot anger. “Maria, were you helping her to escape?”
I grab his hand, tugging at him. “No—look.” My voice is urgent, panicked. “It’s not about me. Both families are in danger.”
The anger in his eyes doesn’t vanish, but the icy calculation returns. His jaw tightens, and he swears under his breath, a low, deadly sound.
“Both families…” he mutters, his hand tightening around mine. “Show me.”
I nod, my chest heaving, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. The backyard stretches before us, shadows pooling around the hedges and trees. Maria lingers a step behind, hesitating, but I know she loves me enough to stay, enough to trust me.
We move toward the men. Raphael crouches beside the nearest one, his movements deliberate, precise. He leans closer, fingers brushing against the man’s neck, then pauses to open his jacket. Empty. The gun holster is bare. My stomach twists.
Raphael reaches into his jacket, and swears. “ Fuck .”
“What?” I ask.
“I left my fucking phone in the car.”
“Do you have a gun?” I whisper, careful not to sound too loud.
“No. We were told to come unarmed.”
Swallowing hard, I look back at the house. “I know where my family keeps theirs.”
His gaze locks on me. “Can you shoot?”
I nod, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Yes. Dad always said I should know how to take care of myself.” I glance over my shoulder at Maria, who shifts uneasily. “Maria does too. She’s a better shot than me.”
Maria shakes her head, a faint, nervous laugh escaping her. “Not on my best day.”
I shrug, a tight laugh of my own. “We’ve only ever shot at targets. But we can help.”
“Good,” he says, eyes scanning every shadow, every inch of the yard like it might erupt into violence. “Lead the way.”