CHAPTER 30
MIA
The cool night air surrounds me as I step into Laura's garden, but I barely feel it.
My mind won’t turn off.
Two days awake after a week spent teetering between lucidity and delirium. I wanted to rest—everyone said I needed to—but how? My heart is still racing, my chest still tightens.
I stared at Zane sleeping for hours, Figaro curled up against him, just like old times. The thought makes me smile.
I’m trying to convince myself that he’s real. That I’m safe. That all of this is real.
I'm staying at Laura's house, a fortress of safety.
Pietro Barone insisted on it. She and Seth thought it would be the best choice since Zane and I needed to recover. I love my sister’s company, but I miss my home.
And yet, here I am, wandering among the flowers, holding my teddy bear tightly to my chest.
Then I see Laura.
She sits on a stone bench, her hair loose, her sharp expression softened by the moonlight. I hesitate, unsure whether to approach, but she notices me before I can decide.
"Can't sleep?" Her voice is softer than usual.
I shake my head and sit next to her, pulling my knees up to my chest.
“I understand. It’s hard for me too when Pietro isn’t home.”
"It must be tough, living as a mobster’s wife, never knowing if he’ll come back."
Laura exhales, looking at the dahlias in front of her. Her fingers skim the worn pages of the book in her lap, tracing their texture as if grounding herself. Then, with a quiet finality, she closes it and turns to me.
"I don’t know if ‘tough’ is the right word," she says finally. "Toughness implies struggle, like there’s something to push against. But… being with Pietro isn’t like that. He doesn’t let me feel afraid. He just makes things work, and I let him—because trusting him isn’t a choice. It’s just what love feels like with him. Natural."
She pauses, as if deciding whether to continue. Then she lets out a small, humorless laugh.
"What’s tough, truly, is war. Having something to lose. And no matter how much Pietro tries to protect me from that, the truth is, there’s always a fine line between being safe and watching everything fall apart."
I watch her in silence, feeling the weight of her words. There’s something in her voice—a mix of pragmatism and unshakable devotion to Pietro.
It’s not blind faith. It’s choice.
"You really love him." My voice comes out as a statement, not a question.
Laura stares at me for a moment, her dark eyes unreadable.
"Yes," she answers, without hesitation. "And that scares me more than any war. Because I can’t lose him, Mia."
That’s a feeling I understand.
I begged for Zane’s life. I would do it again. He is my life.
We sit there in silence, letting the night stretch around us. Then, her voice lowers, hesitant.
"I'm sorry about Katie."
My chest tightens instantly. The words steal the air from my lungs, leaving only the weight of what I’ve been avoiding.
My mother is dying. And I almost killed Zane trying to save her.
I don’t know if her words were real or just the ramblings of someone already too far gone.
I couldn’t save her, and her eyes were practically begging me not to try. She gave up. And part of me understands—but that doesn’t make it any less cruel.
And I don’t even know if I’ll get to say goodbye.
"I just…" My throat closes. I tilt my head back, staring at the dark sky, as if that will stop the tears burning behind my eyes. "I just wanted to say goodbye. I knew I couldn’t save her, but I wanted to say goodbye."
Laura doesn’t respond right away. She just watches me, her expression softer than usual.
"I understand." Her voice is low, sincere. "Saying goodbye is always the cruelest part."
There’s something in her tone—something raw. That’s when I remember.
Laura lost her mother when she was young.
She knows exactly what I’m feeling.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to contain the pain clawing at my chest. It’s useless.
"I know I can’t change anything," I whisper. "But it hurts. It hurts knowing that no matter what I do, I’m going to lose her. It hurts knowing I’m already losing her."
Laura exhales, and in an unexpected gesture, takes my hand.
Her grip is firm but not forceful. Just a quiet reminder that she’s there.
Silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. I watch her slide her fingers over the pink petals of a flower beside us.
“Dahlias,” she murmurs. “My mother used to say they represent resilience. That you keep standing, no matter what.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips because I know that already.
"My mother used to say things like that too. She would tell me stories about the world… even though I could never see it."
It’s just a passing thought, a simple comment.
But then Laura inhales sharply.
When I glance at her, I see them—silent tears slipping down her face.
The sight knocks the breath from my lungs.
Laura. Crying.
She has always been unshakable. Cold. Meticulous. Seeing her like this is strange. Almost terrifying.
"I didn’t think I’d be able to get you out in time," she confesses, her voice breaking. "I was scared. Really scared."
My eyes burn. I don’t know how to process this.
My own pain, I can handle. But hers?
That’s unbearable.
I drop my teddy bear and wrap my arms around her without thinking. She stiffens for a second, caught off guard—but then she clings to me, her grip desperate. Like she’s making sure I’m real.
"I’m here," I whisper. "You did it."
She nods against my shoulder, trying to compose herself, but I feel the heat of her tears against my skin.
Time passes in quiet breaths and steady heartbeats.
Eventually, Laura clears her throat and pulls away, wiping her face with an irritated gesture, as if she hates herself for giving in.
I don’t say anything. I just smile.
"And Seth?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
She sighs and rests a hand on my head, ruffling my hair lightly.
"He’s fine. And you’ll see each other soon."
I close my eyes for a moment, warmth spreading through me. But it’s not enough to ease the ache completely.
"I miss him."
"You need to be strong," she reminds me. "Take a deep breath. You still have the hearing with the Society of Crow ahead of you."
I nod. I’m not afraid of them. I know they won’t hurt me.
This hearing is the least of my worries.
My gaze drifts back to the dahlias.
Resilience.
Maybe that’s what I need right now.
The atmosphere in the room is tense despite the discreet luxury of the décor. The four women seated before me have different postures—some rigid, others more relaxed—but they share a single purpose: to judge my actions.
Giulia Ross looks exasperated, arms crossed, as if she’d rather be anywhere else. Liv, or Livia Spencer is as impeccable as ever, her sharp gaze betraying a glint of amusement when our eyes meet. Andi Park maintains a calm composure, a few notes in hand, clearly prepared to present my “case.” And then there’s Alana Goodwin—impassive, unreadable.
Andi clears her throat, straightening her shoulders.
“Let’s get straight to the point.” She flips through her notes before leveling her gaze at me. “Mia, your presence here is due to the fact that, under Nico Riviera’s influence, you tortured and killed members of the Society of Crow. Since this crime concerns our organization, it falls upon us, as the wives of high-ranking members, to determine whether this matter warrants a formal trial or if it can be settled internally.”
Okay. That sounds horrifying when said out loud.
“To be fair, you make it sound like I was enjoying it,” I say dryly.
Giulia sighs loudly. “And were you?”
“I don’t remember much. My brain has shut down most of what happened.”
Andi briefly drops her eyes before letting out a restrained sigh.“I’m sorry, Mia. I know revisiting this isn’t easy.”
Her fingers slide over the papers in front of her, rearranging them before she continues, adopting a more formal tone.
“According to the report by Dr. Charlotte Spencer, a forensic psychiatrist, you suffered extreme trauma during your time under Nico Riviera’s control. As a self-preservation mechanism, your brain suppressed or distorted specific events. There is clear evidence of dissociation, suggesting that your mind fragmented in response to unbearable distress.”
My stomach churns, but I stay silent as she continues.
“The report also notes that you developed hallucinations as a direct symptom of the trauma. Prolonged isolation, deprivation of basic needs, and relentless psychological stress led to episodes of altered perception of reality. Furthermore, the document confirms that Nico Riviera relied on emotional coercion as his primary method of control. He kept those you loved under constant threat, ensuring your compliance through fear. Your actions weren’t a matter of choice but a result of psychological and emotional conditioning.”
She hesitates slightly before turning to another page. When she speaks again, her voice is softer.
“The report also references… episodes of forced bestiality. Though the document avoids explicit details, it’s clear you were subjected to degrading situations designed to break your will and reinforce your helplessness.”
My throat tightens. A heavy silence fills the room, none of them daring to look directly at me—not that I want them to.
Andi clears her throat. “Dr. Spencer concludes that your years in captivity continue to have a direct impact on your mental and emotional state. Your current behaviors reflect unresolved trauma, and it is strongly recommended that you continue treatment to mitigate long-term effects.”
She finally meets my eyes, her expression softening. “You didn’t have a choice, Mia. None of this is your fault.”
The weight in my chest makes it hard to breathe. I know I’m not to blame. But knowing doesn’t change the burden I carry.
Giulia sighs impatiently. “Great. Can we end this nonsense now? With all due respect, this is a waste of time. If Mia had committed these crimes of her own free will, she’d already be dead. But since we know that wasn’t the case, I don’t see the point of this hearing.”
“Giulia, we’re just following protocol,” Andi replies patiently. “I know you’re not used to how we do things in the Society, but this is procedure. I understand your frustration—I share it—but we need this hearing to protect Mia in the future.”
“Protect her from what?” Giulia raises a brow. “Mia is the wife of one of our own. And if I remember the code correctly, that’s the highest law. No one touches her. Only Zane could sentence her to death. Honestly, I’m more worried about this meeting testing my patience.”
I like her.
Andi exhales, but before she can respond, Livia speaks, crossing her legs elegantly. “If we’re debating the merits of this case, allow me to present the defense.” She gives me a quick, amused glance before leaning back in her chair. “Mia was held captive and subjected to advanced psychological conditioning. We’re talking about manipulation on a level none of us here can fully comprehend.”
Giulia mutters something that sounds like “don’t underestimate my mother,” but Livia ignores her.
“She was used as a weapon without understanding what she was doing. And beyond that, let’s not forget she is protected by her marriage to a member of the Society. If we start setting precedents for internal trials like this, we’ll all have to answer for actions beyond our control.”
Andi takes a deep breath, her posture shifting slightly as if she’s beginning to agree.
Finally, Alana, who has remained silent until now, tilts her head slightly, watching me like I’m something to be studied.
“Don’t you think there should at least be some kind of consequence?”
Livia smiles, slow and razor-sharp. “She spent her whole being tortured and manipulated. I’d say that’s consequence enough, don’t you think?”
I’ve never loved my friend more. Livia looks ready to burn this entire room down if anyone tries to come for me, and I find that oddly comforting.
“I’m so sorry for what you went through, Mia,” Alana says at last, her voice gentle.
Andi exhales, sounding as if her social energy has officially run out.
“There is no precedent for judging someone who was forced to act against their will.” Her tone is neutral, but the weight behind it commands attention. “If we accept that Mia was a victim of circumstances, then there is no basis for punishment.”
Silence falls over the room as the words settle. I stay quiet, trying to appear innocent (which should be easy, considering I am innocent).
Finally, Giulia lets out a long sigh. “If there’s no basis for punishment, then we’re done here, right?”
Livia smirks slightly—just for me.“It seems so.”
Alana nods. “Mia is absolved of any formal trial. This discussion is closed.”
I hold my breath for a second before slowly exhaling. Then, tapping my hands lightly on my knees, I flash a small smile. “So… can I go before you all change your minds?”
Giulia rolls her eyes, Andi sighs in exasperation, and Livia’s smile widens.
“Yes, Mia. You can go.”