Chapter 19 #2
"You think you're the only one who's had to sacrifice for this family?" His voice is low. Dangerous. "You think Sera wanted this life? You think I wanted to be in Bianca's fucking shadow for years, controlled like a child? We all do what we have to do."
I spit blood at his feet.
"Fuck you," I say. "You don't know shit about sacrifice." How could he? He's a man. Even when he's thought he was powerless, he wasn't.
He grabs my arm, hauls me up. "You're lucky I don't put a bullet in your head right now."
"Do it." The words come out before I can stop them. "If I'm such a traitor, if I'm so disposable, then do it. Pull the trigger. I don't care anymore."
His eyes narrow. "Don't tempt me."
"Adrian." Luc's voice from the doorway. I didn't hear him come in. "That's enough."
"Stay out of this, Luciano."
"It's enough." Luc moves closer. "You made your point."
"Did I? Because she doesn't look sorry." Adrian turns back to me. "Do you? Feel sorry for what you did?"
"Yes." I'm sobbing now because I am sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Because Saint was right, going to Alexei was wrong. "Yes, I'm sorry, I made a mistake—"
"A mistake?" His hand is around my throat. Squeezing. Not enough to stop my breathing completely, but enough to terrify me. To show me how easily he could end me. "You're fucking lucky we aren't all dead!"
I claw at his hand, gasping. Trying to pull air through my restricted windpipe.
"Adrian." Saint's voice cuts through. Cold. Commanding. "Enough."
"Stay out of this—"
"I said enough." Saint moves forward, away from the door. "You gave me your word. Alive."
For a moment, I think Adrian won't let go. His hand tightens—I see stars—
Then Saint's hand is on Adrian's wrist. "Now."
The two men stare at each other. A battle of wills.
Adrian releases me.
I collapse to my knees, gasping. Coughing. My throat feels like it's on fire.
"She's still breathing," Adrian snarls at Saint. "Word kept."
Saint steps back, but his eyes stay on Adrian. Warning.
"Adrian!" Luc's there now, a hand on our brother's shoulder. "Stop. You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking perfectly clearly." But Adrian steps back. Runs a hand through his hair. "She betrayed us. Put Sera and Angelo at risk. You. The twins. Fuck," he points to Saint. "Even her fucking husband could have ended up on a slab. There have to be consequences."
"And there will be." Luc looks at me. There's pity in his eyes. I hate it. "But killing her isn't the answer."
"Then what is?" Adrian's looking at me like he's never seen me before. Like I'm a stranger. "What do you do with a traitor in the family?"
Luc is quiet for a long moment. Then: "You remove them from the family."
The words hang in the air.
Adrian goes very still. "What?"
"Disown her. Publicly. She's no longer a Nero. No longer under our protection. No longer our problem." Luc's voice is steady, but his eyes are sad. "She wanted to be a Marini so badly? Let her be one. Completely."
Adrian stares at him. Processing.
Then he looks at me. And I see the moment he decides.
"You're no longer a Nero, Gemma. As of this moment, you're disowned. You have no claim to this family. No protection. No name."
"What?" My voice sounds far away. "No—What does that even mean?" I manage to whisper.
"It means," Adrian says coldly, "if you're attacked, we don't retaliate. If you're killed, we don't avenge you. If someone comes for you, you're on your own." He leans down, gets in my face. "You wanted out of this family so badly? Congratulations. You're out."
"Adrian, please—"
"The only reason you're breathing right now is that contract with the Marinis. You're Saint's problem now. His wife. His responsibility." His smile is cruel. "And if he doesn't want you? Well. That's not my problem anymore either."
"No—" I try to stand. My legs won't work. "Adrian, please, I'm your sister—"
"I don't have a sister." His voice is flat. Final.
The words destroy me more completely than his hands around my throat.
Not a Nero. Not family. Not wanted.
Nothing.
"Take her back." Adrian's speaking to Saint now. "She's your problem. Your wife. Your responsibility. If she comes at me and mine again, the deal is void, and she's dead."
I look at Saint. Surely now he'll say something. Surely now he'll defend me.
He pushes off the wall. Walks toward me.
For one stupid moment, I think he's going to help me up. Hold me. Tell me it's going to be okay.
Instead, he looks down at me. On my knees. Broken. Bleeding.
"Can you walk?"
His voice is so cold. So distant.
"Saint, please—" I reach for him. "Don't let him do this. Tell him—"
"Can you walk?" he repeats.
I stare up at him. At the man I love. The man who just destroyed me. I hate him. I hate all of these men.
"I want to go home," I whisper.
"You are going home."
"No." I'm crying so hard I can barely speak. "Home. My old room. I want, I need—"
"You need to go with Saint, Gem," Luc's voice is gentle. Kind. It makes it worse. I know he's doing this to save me, but it's killing me.
"Please." I'm begging. I don't care. "Please, I'll do anything, I'll—"
"Get up." Saint's hand under my arm. Hauling me to my feet. "We're leaving."
My legs don't want to support me. He keeps me upright. Drags me toward the door.
I look back at Adrian. "Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"
He's turned away. Staring out the window. Like I'm already gone.
Like I was never there at all.
Luc won't meet my eyes.
Saint pulls me into the hallway. Down the stairs. To the front door.
The door I walked through as Gemma Nero.
I'm leaving as nothing.
No family. No name. No home.
Just Saint's wife.
And he hates me.
Emmanuel opens the car door. Saint pushes me inside. Gets in beside me.
The door closes.
We drive in silence.
I'm shaking. Can't stop shaking. My throat hurts. My face throbs where Adrian hit me. But none of it compares to the hole in my chest where my identity used to be.
Not a Nero.
The words echo in my head.
Bianca's daughter. Adrian's sister. The last Nero princess.
All of it, gone.
Because I made a mistake. Because I was angry. Because I wanted to matter.
And now I'm nothing.
"Why?" My voice is barely audible. Broken. "Why did you do it?"
Saint doesn't answer for a long time.
Then: "I had to."
"You had to betray me to my brother? You had to watch him nearly kill me?" I turn to look at him. His face is carved from stone. "You had to destroy me?"
"I had to protect the family."
"I'm your family!" I'm screaming now. Don't care that Emmanuel can hear. Don't care about anything. "I'm your wife! I loved you!"
"I know."
Not past tense. Present tense.
I still love him.
And he knows.
And he doesn't care.
The car stops. We're at the compound.
Saint gets out. Opens my door.
I don't move.
"Gemma. Inside."
"Or what? You'll drag me? Hit me? Give me to someone else to punish?" I laugh. It sounds insane. "What's left to threaten me with? I have nothing. I am nothing."
He's quiet for a moment.
Then: "You have me."
"Do I?" I look up at him. "Because from where I'm sitting, I lost you the moment you decided your position was worth more than I am."
Something flickers across his face. Too fast to identify.
"Inside," he repeats. "Now."
I get out. Because what choice do I have?
He walks me to our bedroom. Opens the door.
"Get some rest."
"Rest." I laugh again. That same broken sound. "Yes. Rest. After watching my husband betray me and my brother disown me. After losing everything. Yes, I'll just rest."
"Gemma—"
"Get out." I move past him into the room. "Just get out."
"We need to talk about—"
"Out!" I scream it. "Get the fuck out! I don't want to see you! I don't want to hear your voice! I don't want—" My voice breaks. "Just go."
He stands there for a moment.
Then he leaves.
The door closes.
I'm alone.
No family. No name. No identity.
Just Gemma Marini. Saint's wife. The woman no one wants.
I walk to the bathroom. Look in the mirror.
My face is swelling where Adrian hit me. My throat is bruised from his hands. My eyes are red from crying.
I look like a ghost.
I feel like one too.
Dead but still walking.
I should be angry. Should be planning revenge. Should be doing something.
Instead, I just feel empty.
Hollow.
Like everything that made me myself has been scooped out, leaving nothing but a shell.
I slide down the wall. Sit on the cold tile.
And I don't cry.
Crying would require feeling something.
And I feel nothing at all.
Being nothing.
Nothing scares me anymore.
Because what's left to fear when you've already lost everything?