d is to become so absolutely free that yo

ert

------

u what freed

hat rebellion truly was. It wasn't twelve-year-old me hurling Cosimo's phone into the pool and receiving a smack in the face. It wasn't fourteen-year-old me talking back to my father and being told that was

as t

nlaced without getting a smack on the back of my head. It was knowing I could choose how to style my hair and not be dictated to. It was knowing if I wante

at I was just Alessandra-not Sessie,

was to dive into the closest bar, drink until I couldn't feel my legs, just like Nico or Cosimo would explain a drunken stupor

deleted his number. Vi had been blocked, along with Mamma, Cosimo, Nico, even Zee. With each ca

instead of whiskey, held newspapers instead of pistols, and talked about vacations in Greece rather than chopping off heads. I'd want to tell her I'd found som

keep my distance, not d

r. I could slip into the crowd unnoticed, safe from being abducted o

wary that one of my father's enemies might recognize me and come collecti

him a douche, just hissing under my breath. I kept moving, understanding it was the part of th

eft earring, popped the SIM tray, and threw the damn thing away. I didn't stop at that; I wiped every trac

of s

where I was headed. I veered into a dark street, my heart skipping two beats

ontainer. I ducked behind it, peeking out a

n into family goons doing their rounds in this part of town.

n a black truck, and finally another trash container. I crouched

and sound, I saw five of them. Now I

tch, leaning casually against a small double-door car, pretending to look

me. Relief washed over me for a second, but then my c

awling on the curb like some kind of stray. On all fours. Yeah, I

there, leaning against the truck I was hiding behind. That made

his CSO, and take out Marcello. Then we

dnapping. My heart twisted in my chest for anyone about to get caught in the ruthl

reckless and someone had died because of it. Maybe, just maybe, I could save someone tonight. I didn't know who they were waiting for,

ooked closed, the sign confirming it. But they wouldn't be waiti

unning out. If I was going to

r it would get me shot in the head for sure. I had to think f

les, praying one would set off an alarm. Finally, the loud, shrill sound pierced the night, startling the men.

ducked and hidden, moving fast as I scurried a

. My heart raced, my body trembling as I kept my head low, feeling the pavement dig into my hands and knees. The sharp crack of a bullet striking me

w feet toward the door

and my knees buckled. That fall was my only saving grace, the bullet whizzing over my head, tearing into the doorfra

eamed, alerting whoever was ar

, head tucked into my arms, trying to make myself as small as possible. Shout

, hide. You're dead

. The sharp smell of gunpowder hung in the air, mixing with the

t me like a sledgehammer-someone was lying flat beside

guttural. My whole body shook, an

this my fault? The thought burrowed deep, gnawing at my insides like

t do somet

o

oor slammed shut behind us, the thick metal absorbing most of the bullets that continued to ping off the build

hissed from above me. "

rough floor. Dazed, I kept my head down, staring at the scuffed bo

listened as footsteps retreated into the distance, the sharp sound

ore, everythi

ontrollably, afraid to lift my head, afraid to see who had pulled me in. They clearly were as bad as Vincenzo's me

n let go, and I slumped agains

d, sending an icy tremor down to my stomach. I spread my a

the low lights. The moment I squinted past the light, I knew exactly

ame always tied to some bloody vendetta or headline-worthy violence which never made it to any real headline. Demigod. He was the kind of danger you couldn't shake, the kind that lingered like smoke long after the fire

at Renzo's crew had done to Elio and a dozen of my father's men days ago. That much I was certain of.

to settle the score. One bullet, clean through the head, and his ni

e. His eyes-keen, cold steel-carving right through me. His lips curled, not quite a smile, more like a challenge. That black T-shirt clung to his muscles like a second skin, practically flaunting

ed at his feet, all I could do was hope t

again, each word striking like a cold chisel against stone. His voice

s this

ie, the one that wouldn't set him off. "Maybe he's just waiting for you to lie," my inner

mn

sandra Moretti." A believable lie, with a nice ring to it. Then came the truth, "I was wandering and happened upo

ut which part of my story to tear apart first. The lie had slipped off my tongue shakily,

e of those old '90s bars that had been abandoned after something terrible happened. Dust, c

tore through, both cold and unsettlingly warm. I couldn't quite place it. "They'd w

my word barely e

ug, with that same infuriating smile. Marcello-Renzo's brother, I presumed. He strode forward, sharply dressed in a suit t

thicker than Renzo's. It was clear he was steep

eep my myself from betraying the panic

had seen so many times in photos. But in real life? It felt wo

de into something dangerously soft, as if h

to play the hero when I never should have. Guilt for all the reckless decisions that led me here, like Jake's death still h

the lie again. "Maybe I panicked. I

His eyes pinned me to the spot as he knelt

, there's no such thing." Rising, he barked, "Get on

k of that man bumping into me hit. I'd been robbed and hadn't even realized it until now. Perfect. Just perfect. I guess the Santoros figured out I was

my sight. In a matter of minutes, everyone vanished, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I had to admit-

, spinning a convincing lie for my family, or dig in my heels and

r. Alessandra would get the