Broken Strings: The Mafia Wife’s Exit

I didn't wait for the jet. I couldn't.

Instead, I hailed a cab, demanding the driver take me back to the estate. I had to get my papers, but more importantly, I had to get to the only thing that mattered-Mia.

I was shivering violently, my dress still sodden and plastering to my skin like a second, freezing layer.

I burst into the main hall.

It was silent. The kind of heavy, suffocating silence that precedes a funeral.

"Mia!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the marble.

No answer.

I sprinted to her quarters. Empty. The bed was unmade, sheets torn. A lamp lay shattered on the floor-signs of a struggle.

Fear, primal and terrifying, clawed its way up my throat.

I ran. Down the hall, past the kitchen, to the heavy door that led to the basement. To the cells.

The steel door was ajar.

I shoved it open.

The smell hit me first. The metallic tang of copper mixed with the stinging scent of bleach.

Dante stood in the center of the room. He had discarded his jacket. His crisp white shirt was rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms tense with muscle.

In his hand, he held a whip. A thick, braided leather lash that looked heavy with cruelty.

And chained to the wall, her head hanging low, was Mia.

She was unconscious. Her face was swollen, unrecognizable. A thin stream of blood trickled from her split lip.

"No," I gasped, the air leaving my lungs. I fell to my knees, the stone floor biting into my skin. "No!"

Dante turned slowly to look at me. His face was a mask of cold, unyielding stone.

"You called Luca," he stated.

It wasn't a question. It was a sentence.

"You called the Don of New York and told him the alliance was over."

"You let me drown!" I screamed, scrambling to my feet, adrenaline overriding my terror. "You chose her!"

"Sofia cannot swim," Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "You can. It was a tactical decision."

"Tactical?" I laughed-a hysterical, broken sound that scraped my throat. "It was a choice, Dante! You love her!"

"I protect what is mine," he countered coldly. "And you risked the safety of this family by calling your brother. You broke Omertà. You brought outside eyes into our internal affairs."

"I am leaving you!"

"You are not leaving," Dante said, stepping toward me. The air around him crackled with violence. "You are my wife. And you need to learn your place."

He gestured to the Enforcer standing in the shadows of the corner. "Chain her up."

The Enforcer hesitated, his eyes darting between me and his Boss. "Boss... she's a Vitiello."

"Do it!" Dante roared.

The sound slammed against the concrete walls like a physical blow.

Two men grabbed me. I fought. I kicked, I clawed, I screamed until my throat was raw. But they were too strong.

They dragged me to the wooden post in the center of the room. Rough hands shackled my wrists, chaining my hands high above my head.

The back of my dress was torn open. My skin was exposed to the damp, cold air.

"This is for the betrayal," Dante said. His footsteps echoed as he walked behind me.

"Dante, please," I begged. Not for my life. But for us. For the last, fraying thread of love I still held for him. "Don't do this. If you do this... there is no going back."

"Good," he said.

The first lash hit me.

It felt like a rod of molten iron searing through my flesh.

I screamed.

The pain was blinding. It stole my breath, shattered my reality, and turned the world white.

Crack.

The second lash.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted warm, metallic blood.

Crack.

I forced my eyes open, focusing on Mia's unconscious form through my tears.

Crack.

With every strike, something inside me fractured.

Not my bones.

But the girl who had sung in a cave all those years ago. The girl who had dreamed of a dark prince coming to save her. The girl who was foolish enough to believe in love.

She died.

She died right there, on the cold concrete floor of a Chicago dungeon.

Dante didn't stop. He was breathing hard, his rage fueling every strike.

"Boss, that's enough!" the Enforcer shouted, stepping forward. "She's passing out! You'll kill her!"

Dante froze.

The silence that followed was deafening.

My back was on fire. I couldn't feel my legs anymore.

I sagged against the chains, the metal biting into my wrists.

Dante walked around to face me. He looked at my tear-stained, pale face. He looked down at the blood pooling at my bare feet.

For a second, his eyes widened. As if he was waking up from a trance.

"Gianna," he whispered. He reached out a trembling hand.

I looked at him.

My vision was blurring, darkness creeping in at the edges like a vignette.

"Don't," I whispered. My voice was nothing more than a rasp. "Don't touch me."

"I had to," he said, his voice shaking for the first time. "You tried to destroy us."

"You destroyed us," I breathed.

I forced myself to look him in the eye.

"The girl in the cave," I whispered. "The one who saved you."

Dante went still.

"It wasn't Sofia," I said, the truth spilling out with my last ounce of strength. "It was me."

His face went pale. All the color drained from his skin, leaving him looking like a ghost.

"What?" he choked out.

"It was me," I repeated softly. "And you just killed her."

The darkness took me then.

And I welcomed it.