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Tears fill my eyes, and I bite my lip to stop from sobbing. I don’t want to move—to go on. I want to lie down, close my eyes, and pretend he’s still here, somewhere in the world. It’s a sweeter dream than thinking he’s dead—never to be seen again.

A cry escapes my lips, and I wipe my cheeks with bloody hands. I may want to fall apart, sink into oblivion, and let Marco have me, but I won’t.

Briar wouldn’t want me to give in. I’ve fought for my freedom, for my life for months, and I will not give up now.

Sniffling, I stuff Rosa into the far corner of the bathroom. Quickly, I throw the duvet onto the floor, hiding the bloodstain. Returning to the shower, I angle it so it doesn’t hit my implant, and strip.

It’s a quick, cold wash. Just enough to remove the blood off me and hide my misdeeds. I can’t waste time—Marco will return any minute.

Stepping out, I dry and grab the gown. I almost throw it—I don’t want this abomination anywhere on me—but I don’t have a choice. With no other clothes not soaked in blood, I won’t be able to hide the vial.

In the middle of the suite, I slip the lacy material over my shoulders. The top cups my small breasts, the slits along the legs high. It’s clearly made for sex.

Stumbling back into the bathroom, I vomit. Acid burns my throat, my nose. Wiping my mouth, I cough and gag.

Marco’s hands were on me, where Briar’s were⁠—

I shudder, holding the toilet, as my stomach clenches. No. I can’t let the memories, the sorrow, have me. I have to fight to escape.

Once I’m free, I’ll mourn Briar. I’ll destroy every inch of who killed him and pray the O’Brien clan will keep me as a sister. If not…

Taking the vial, I go to the bar. I dump the entire bottle into the dark liquor and swirl it. Pouring with a heavy hand, I bring it over to the end table and make sure the glass is back under the pillow. I’ve stuffed another under the mattress and a shard inside the end table.

I’m as prepared as I can be.

The hotel door opens, light spilling behind Marco’s form. A conquering angel, but there’s no halo, only horns. He stands there, his lips spread into a wide, pleased smile.

He’s changed, too. Wearing a simple shirt and sweatpants, it’s something to discard. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I will the nausea away.

“You listened.”

Swallowing, I keep my back to the bathroom.

He glances at the mess, brow quirked. “I take it you didn’t like Rosa being here.”

Understatement.

“No matter,” he says, shrugging. He pulls the black shirt off, tossing it aside. I bite my lip to keep from vomiting. A branded S is etched into his left pectoral muscle, the script larger and heavier than mine. It’s a sadistic twist on the crest that covers Briar’s chest.

“Get on the bed.”

Fisting my hands into my sides, I take the glass. Lifting it to my mouth, he rushes forward, stealing it away.

“If you think I’ll let you endure this drunk, you’re mistaken,” he sneers. He downs most of the glass in one swallow. Only the tiniest bit remains at the bottom.

“Bed. Now.”

My whole body shudders with fear. Slowly, I crawl onto the bed, still on my knees. My eyes fall to the end table. I’m close enough to reach if I lean⁠—

He throws me back, slamming into the mattress. Breath whooshes from my lungs, heart hammering in my chest. Marco straddles me, large palms holding my middle.

I’m going to puke. Everything in me rebels with revulsion and despair at his weight.

Dio, please let the poison work.

“You’re a beauty, Valentina,” he murmurs. “Delicate, fine. A perfect doll.” He leans forward, brushing his nose against mine. The scent of booze on his tongue and his heat makes me cringe. “I promise, you’ll love this. Then, you’ll spend the rest of your life comparing me to your future husband. Maybe one day I’ll let you back into my bed. If you beg, of course.”

Twisting my face away, my hand reaches for the pillow.