The Sacrifice (The Reign of Sin #1)

Chapter 1

Savannah

Cassio’s office smells like leather and money. It clings to the walls and hangs in the air. I can feel it in my chest, and my body trembles like it’s warning me.

I stand in front of his desk with my hands behind my back, trying to look calm even when I’m not.

For a second, I’m twelve again, standing still while a man decides if I live.

My shoulders stay squared. My eyes don’t dart around.

I stare straight ahead because I learned when I was a child what men do when they sense fear. They use it.

Cassio doesn’t look up right away. He keeps writing like he’s got all the time in the world, like I don’t matter. The pen moves slowly across the paper. The scratch is quiet, but my body still stiffens. Because back then, quiet meant I had to wait. Quiet meant something bad was about to happen.

He signs his name, caps the pen, and sets it down like it’s nothing. Then he finally lifts his head and fixes his eyes on me.

My brother. My protector. My warden.

“Savannah,” he says, like my name turns bitter in his mouth. Like he hates the sound of it, but he’s stuck with it.

My mouth’s dry like I’ve swallowed dust. My tongue feels too big, stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Cassio.”

His eyes rake over my face, fast and cold, checking I’m still alive. He doesn’t ask how I am. He never does. Like my feelings don’t matter. They never have.

He counts my breaths without touching me. Watches how I’m standing like it tells him everything. Like I’m a piece of property. Like even now, I can still be useful.

You don’t survive the Alliance unless you learn not to flinch. Not even a blink. You learn not to give them anything they can use.

You don’t survive in Kansas City without learning who owns what, even when nobody says it. You just feel it. The compound sits outside the city, far enough to disappear, close enough that his people can show up quick if they need to.

“You know why you’re here,” he says.

I do.

I just don’t want to say it. Because the second I say it, it stops being something I can pretend isn’t real. And I’ve survived my whole life by pretending it’s not real until it’s . Until the last possible second.

My eyes drop to the silver ring on his hand. The Alliance ring. Heavy. Polished. It means he has the final say. It means he controls all the families. And it means he controls me too.

My heart races. I feel it pounding against my ribs. “I heard there was another Bratva hit,” I say.

Cassio leans back, slow and deliberate. He never rushes. He doesn’t have to. Rushing is for men who are worried. Men who don’t have control.

“There was,” he says. His voice is cold, but I see it anyway.

In his jaw. In the way it clenches like he’s holding back rage. He wants blood.

I want it too. I do. But I want peace more. I know what war does to women. I know what monsters do when nobody’s enforcing the rules anymore.

Cassio slides a folder across the desk toward me. The leather makes that soft drag against the wood, slow and deliberate. Like he wants me to hear it.

My body reacts like he just cocked a gun. I freeze. My heart won’t stop slamming against my ribs. My skin trembles, like it knows what that folder means before my brain catches up.

A folder is never just a folder. It means the decision’s already made. I’m just being told.

Cassio stares at me. “Open it,” he says.

I reach for the folder, slow. I hold my breath so my panic won’t show. I will my hands to stop shaking.

I open the folder. Photos, maps, and territory lines drawn across the pages.

Names. Some I know, some I don’t .

One word keeps showing up until it feels like it’s hitting me over the head. Over and over.

Treaty. Treaty. Treaty.

Cassio talks like this isn’t a conversation. Like he’s just saying it out loud so I can’t pretend I didn’t hear it. Like it’s already done.

“The Bratva’s pressing in from the north,” he says. “Stealing shipments. Hitting our allies. They want us divided.”

He pauses.

“The cartel has the transport routes we need.”

My stomach drops before my brain even catches up.

“The Mexican cartel?” I whisper.

Cassio’s eyes narrow. “Yes.”

I close the folder slowly. The air feels thinner all at once. it’s hard to breathe.

The cartel isn’t brotherhood. They aren’t part of our family.

it’s men deciding who belongs to who and calling it “for your own good” so it doesn’t sound as bad.

“They offered terms,” Cassio says.

I force the words out. “What terms?”

He holds my gaze, and I hate him for the next sentence.

“A marriage.”

My heart clenches hard and my breath stalls in my chest.

The room goes dead quiet.

The air turns heavy. The kind of heavy that shows up right before a door locks and you realize you’re trapped.

My heart starts pounding like it’s trying to warn me. My breath catches.

In. Out. In. Out.

I’m still here. I can still breathe. My body hasn’t fallen apart yet, even though it feels like it wants to.

“A marriage,” I say again.

Cassio nods once. “A treaty marriage.”

My head shakes before I can stop it. “No.”

His face doesn’t change, but his eyes harden. “Yes.”

My voice rises and I hate it. I hate that it gives me away. I hate that emotion leaks out of me anyway.

“Cassio, you can’t.”

“I can,” he cuts in. “I will. Because I have to.”

I shoot up so fast the chair scrapes hard against the floor.

The sound is loud in the office. Too loud.

My body flinches.

Cassio doesn’t move. He just watches me like he expected this. Like my panic is something he’s already seen a hundred times. Like he knows me inside out. Every weak spot. Every reaction.

My chest tightens.

“Who,” I whisper.

Cassio says the name like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t change everything. Like it doesn’t end my life.

“Gabriel Gonzalez.”

The name hits me like a slap.

My vision blurs. The room tilts.

I know that name.

Not because I’ve met him.

Because I’ve heard men say it like a curse. Like a warning. Like the name of a god they’re scared to make angry.

Cassio stands. He walks around the desk. He stops in front of me and reaches up, fixes a strand of my hair like I’m a child. Like I’m his little sister again.

“You’ll be safe,” he says.

I let out a sound that isn’t a laugh, but it comes out like one.

“Safe.”

Cassio’s eyes flash. “Do you think I’d marry you off if there was another choice?”

I stare at him, and it hits harder.

He’s not asking me.

He’s telling me.

I whisper the truth. “You’re sacrificing me.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m saving our people.”

My lips tremble. I grit my teeth until my jaw aches. “And what about me?”

Cassio’s voice drops. “You’re part of the Alliance.”

I flinch because those words have always meant the same thing.

My body is the price. For something he cares about more. Something that matters more than my pain. More than my voice ever will.

Cassio steps closer, his body looming over me.

“You’ll marry him,” he says. “You’ll smile. And in public, you’ll keep your mouth shut. You won’t embarrass me.”

My hands curl into fists so hard my nails dig into my palms. I want to scream.

But I don’t . Because my life has taught me what happens when women scream.

Cassio touches my cheek, gentle like it’s supposed to fix what he just did.

“This ends the war,” he says.

I whisper back, “Or it starts a new one.”

Cassio holds my gaze. “Then we end that one too.”

Something inside me breaks because I finally understand.

This is happening.

Whether I want it or not.

Cassio releases me and steps back like the decision is already made.

“You leave tomorrow.”

I stare at the folder and feel my heart crack right down the middle.

Then I turn and walk out.

I don’t run. I don’t cry.

Not yet.

Because I learned how to survive.

And to survive is to live in silence.

* * *

Dear Diary,

My hands are shaking. My mind is racing.

And you just sit there. Quiet and patient.

Like you’re waiting for me to say it.

My lungs are burning.

it’s hard to breathe because you’re watching me.

I feel sick. I feel small.

My stomach rolls like it knows a predator when it’s close. My mind can’t catch up. I feel trapped inside my skull.

My heart pounds. My thoughts spin.

And all the while that door in my head keeps locking. Faster than I can keep up.

If I speak, people die.

If I stay silent, I die a little more.

Either way, my body pays.

You call it treaty. You call it peace.

You don’t call it what it’s .

My body sold for a price.

I won’t give him my pain. I shove it down and stay quiet. I carry it. It sits in my mouth, burning like acid.

I feel sick.

I feel small.

I feel trapped.

You’re choosing my body over my mind.