Sofia’s lip splits against Carmine Sarto’s ring, and she tastes iron, wedding bells, and death. She runs barefoot through midnight streets to Dante’s mansion, because his sister’s bed is the only place left that isn’t enemy territory. Dante opens the door shirtless, gun in hand, eyes scanning her torn dress like he’s already measuring graves.
Now Carmine’s blood dries on Dante’s office floor, and Sofia’s left hand wears a diamond the size of a bullet. Dante’s bodyguards call her Mrs. Vitale, but his mouth calls her Sofia when he pins her against the vault door, fingers branding her thigh. She came for rescue. She stays for the way he loads her gun before he kisses her, like murder and marriage are the same vow.