We get home just around lunchtime.

There are warm, lip-licking aromas drifting through the house, and Jen groans, like it’s the best thing she’s ever smelled.

“Gah, I love it when she cooks.” She steps to the side to kick her boots off. I untie my shoes and place them on the doormat in front of the coat rack. I follow Jen upstairs, and we put our bags in our rooms, then we head back down to the kitchen, where Aunt Minnie is standing over a pot on the stove.

There are freshly sliced baguettes on the table top, bowls already set up there for whatever she’s preparing.

“Hey, Mom. What are you making?” Jen asks, stepping up beside her and peering over her shoulder. “It smells amazing.”

“My famous autumn chowder soup with toasted baguettes.” She announces the meal with pride, and I smile. I can’t believe it’s fall already. Though it was only two months of being captured, tortured, beaten, and then treated like his reina, it felt like years.

I hear the front door shut, and I step back, taking a look down the hallway. I expect Clark, but it’s Uncle Jack. He walks my way, smiling wide with open arms. He wrangles me up into a big bear hug, and I let out a small wheeze before laughing.

“Might as well get used to those. Everyone under my roof gets hugs when they first see me during the day,” he laughs, letting me go. “Everyone but that crazy son of mine.”

“Another one of your uncle’s ridiculous rules,” Aunt Minnie adds in.

Jen and I laugh, and Uncle Jack scoops Jen up in one arm, wrapping his other around Aunt Minnie’s chest and kissing the top of her head.

“Like the hair, girls,” Uncle Jack notes, smiling at us.

I return a smile. They are the perfect little family.

They seem so normal and nice. I’m certain they can get down and dirty if need be, but I don’t think they’ve had to in long, long time.

A slight pang of envy strikes me. Why couldn’t it be this simple and quiet for me? Why couldn’t Daddy take Mom and me to a secluded home, away from all of the madness?

Why couldn’t he keep his mafia life and his personal life separate? Everything he did, I ended up knowing about, either by an argument between him and Mom, or from overhearing my bodyguards.

It was never this easy. I could never really fall asleep until I knew Daddy was home safe. I always worried that he wouldn’t make it home. That someone would kill him…and, eventually, someone did.

We all eat lunch at the dinner table, and during our meal, I pick up on Aunt Minnie asking Uncle Jack where Clark is. Uncle Jack tells her he’ll be back, but nothing more. By his dismissive tone, I assume he has no idea where Clark is either.

After helping Aunt Minnie clean, Jen takes off to her bedroom to look for ski resort tickets, and I walk out to the deck with a cup of chamomile tea. Though it’s a little windy, it blends perfectly with the warm, buttery sun. I sit in one of the rocking chairs, drawing my legs up so my feet touch my bottom, staring up at the mountains.

As I sip the tea, I catch sight of the scars on my wrist and I sigh. I place my tea down on the table beside me, looking down at the scars, running my fingers over them. They circle all the way around now, bold, pink scars that will never go away.

Scars that are a clear reminder of where I was. Memories that will never fade—that will always haunt me.

The door behind me creaks, and I look over my shoulder, spotting Aunt Minnie. She steps out with a warm, close-lipped smile, her eyes falling down to my wrists.

I drop my hands and tug my sleeves down, picking my tea back up again and sipping.

“Nice out here, right?” she asks with a small sigh. She takes the rocking chair to the left of me, looking up at the mountains, too.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.

Sitting back, she rocks slowly in the chair, breathing evenly. The wind tousles my freshly done hair, gold tendrils curling around my face. I tuck it back, and Aunt Minnie stops rocking. I feel her looking at me, so I look up. Her head is tilted, eyes slightly narrowed, like she’s trying to read me.

“Can I ask you something, sweetie?” she asks.

“Sure,” I answer. “Anything.”

She sits up higher in her chair, her eyes shifting down to my hidden wrists and then back up at me. “While he had you, did you by any chance, happen to fall in love with him?”

Her question catches me completely off guard. My eyes grow a little wider, my heart slithering to the pit of my stomach. All I can do is look at her.

How can she tell? How does she know?

I let out a tattered sigh, glancing around. “What makes you ask that?”

“Oh, trust me. You can’t fool me.” She smiles. “I know heartbreak when I see it. I’ve been through it way too many times not to know when I’m in the presence of it. You…cared about him—about the man that abducted you.”

I press my lips, focusing on the amber liquid in my teacup.

“You love him,” she states.

I shake my head, my eyelids sealing. “No.” How can I love a monster? How can I love a man who killed my husband? How can I love a man who kidnapped me, punished me like an animal day and night—who didn’t take me seriously until I was completely demolished and torn down, beaten and raped?

“You don’t have to hide the truth from me, Gia. I promise I won’t tell your Uncle Jack—or anyone for that matter.”

Fiery tears threaten to fall, but I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh again. “I . . . don’t know what it is I feel for him, Aunt Minnie. It confuses the hell out of me, honestly.” I open my eyes and laugh again.

When I meet hers, she’s smiling.

She stands up, eyes gentle, face soft. “What you’re feeling, my sweet Gia, is this crazy, wild thing called being in love. It will make you think you’re insane, but when it lures you in, it takes over all of you. And once you’re hooked and trapped, there is no going back.” She presses her lips, like she’s thinking about something.

“Maybe he was a monster to you, maybe he wasn’t,” she continues. “Maybe you want to hate him, but all you can see is the good—the positive traits. The sacrifices, like the one he made by sending you here, risking everything just so you could live on. He had to trust you in order to do that. He had to know you wouldn’t speak or lay out his secrets. I don’t believe what your Uncle Jack tells me about his loyalty to your father being the only reason you were sent here. I see right through it. A man that powerful, no matter how good he had it with your father, wouldn’t just send you away—not unless he knew for sure you would keep quiet about what you know about him.”

I don’t know to respond to that. Hell, what do I say to that? She’s read right through me, and even though they are my family—a part of my bloodline—I can’t talk about him much. He wouldn’t want me to. He would want me to move on. He wouldn’t want to be figured out. He wants to be known as The Jefe and nothing less.

Cruel.

Cold.

Handsome and deadly.

On top of the world.

I shake my head and say, “Aunt Minnie, The Jefe is a monster. He’s brutal and cold and strict. He didn’t like to take the word ‘no’ for an answer. Maybe I did care a little. Maybe it was some kind of messed up Stockholm syndrome for a while, but there is no way in hell I am in love with a man like him. He’s no hero. He’s a villain. And villains only look out for themselves.”

She lets the words sink in, but the word she says to me next makes the smallest, most genuine laugh bubble out of me. It’s the first time in a long time that I feel it—a strong laugh that comes from deep within my core. A laugh so comforting and rich that I hope it helps me sleep better tonight.

“Bullshit,” she says. “You’re in love with him. Plain and simple.” She walks away like nothing even happened, leaving me sitting there with a stupid grin plastered on my face.

After soaking up enough rays, I head back up to my room with another cup of chamomile tea. I place the teacup on top of the dresser, and then lock the door behind me, taking my gun out of the tote bag sitting on the bed and sliding it beneath the mattress.

With a deep sigh, I grab my teacup and saucer and walk to the double doors, pulling them open and stepping onto the terrace. The view is spectacular. I inhale deep, and exhale before taking a sip of the hot drink, just as a windy chill nips at my skin.

I don’t mind the chill. It feels good.

I sit, cradling the hot cup in hand, watching as the sun sets behind the tall mountains.

I’m surrounded by nature.

There is solace here.

Peace.

It’s the perfect place to escape from all the madness in the world and actually think and accept. It’s the perfect way to start from scratch and actually live a normal life.

Some people would kill to have a home like this. This kind of tranquility is enough to savor and make you never want to go back to the real world…so why do I keep trying to go back to the cruelty when I’m better off here?

* * *

Long after dinner, and when the house is mostly quiet, I hear light footsteps drifting down the hallways. It’s around one in the morning. Jen told me Aunt Minnie is always asleep by 11 o’ clock, and Uncle Jack is usually right behind her.

I push out of bed, walking to the door and pulling it open as quietly as possible. The hallway is dark, but I see the familiar silhouette walking down the hallway, the opposite way of my bedroom.

I pull the door open, taking a step out. “Psst,” I hiss, and Clark stops, peering over his shoulder. I wave a hand, signaling for him to come to me.

He turns, walking my way with an exaggerated exhale. I open the door and he steps inside, shutting it behind him quietly. He’s barefoot, most likely because he’s sneaking in and doesn’t want to be asked questions by his parents.

“You were gone all day,” I whisper-hiss, taking a step back. “What took you so long?”

“I had other shit to do besides getting in touch with the pilot, woman,” he says snidely.

“Well, did you get in touch with him?”

“Yeah.” He plucks a cigarette from behind his ear, walking past me to get to the terrace. He steps out into the cool night, the milky moonlight shining down on him, placing the cigarette between his lips. He draws a lighter out of his front pocket and brings it up, sparking it and lighting the end.

Once he takes a long pull and releases a chain of smoke, he says, “He’s out of town. Won’t be back for two days. I told him I need to see him as soon as possible.”

“Did you tell him why?” I ask, stepping up and gripping the guardrail.

“No. He wouldn’t have agreed to meet me if I’d told him.”

“Good. We don’t need him telling Uncle Jack.”

Clark side-eyes me. “How the fuck are you gonna get him to take us anyway?”

“Guns aren’t just for protection. They can be used to threaten, too. You should know that.”

“I’d never threaten my own fucking pilot unless I have another one in line and we fucking don’t right now.”

“Then I’ll be sure to get you a new one once everything has blown over.”

He huffs a laugh, pulling from his cigarette again. “He really gave you a swelled head,” he says through a cloud of smoke, voice thick. “I heard they called you Patrona. Boss . . .”

“Yeah. So?”

“They respect you? Enough not to kill me on sight if they see me tagging along with you?”

“They won’t shoot at me. If you’re by my side, they won’t kill you either.” I step forward, getting closer to his face. His nonchalant mood makes me not trust him. His eyes meet mine, his entire demeanor unwavering. “Don’t make me regret this,” I say through partially clenched teeth. “I know you know about the warrant and the prize for The Jefe’s capture. If that’s your plan, to turn him in, then—”

“Oh, please, fucking spare me,” he says, interrupting my sentence. “If there’s one thing I am good at, it’s keeping my business afloat and watching my own ass, not ruining my entire fucking reputation. Turning in The Jefe or even telling anyone where he is, is like me asking to die.” He steps back, shaking his head. “If you can’t trust me, why not just do this yourself?”

“If I had my own way there, I would.”

“There are trains, buses, taxis . . .”

“They aren’t fast enough, and they’re easily traceable. At least with a jet we can fly fast, ditch it, and run with a head start.”

“Our pilot could get arrested, fired, or even tossed in jail for flying there without permission.” He scoffs. “And all this because you want to run back to your master.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I spit at him. “Listen, I owe him this. I did something wrong, and I need to make up for it. I want to get back to him, and I’m not letting anything stop me, especially not a wannabe kingpin, Nicotera cousin of mine.”

Clark hisses through his teeth, a jeer that only annoys me. “Damn. Now that— that was a harsh one. A good one, but harsh as fuck.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. “You have to be high or something.”

“Just a little drunk.” He shrugs.

“Ugh.” I walk back inside, sitting on the bench at the bottom of the bed. Clark takes a few more puffs from his cigarette before putting it out. He shuts the doors and walks my way when he’s done, stopping in front of me.

“Look, I’ll get you to Mexico and to your precious Jefe, but only because every second you spend here puts my family at more and more risk. He started a fucking war, and my family isn’t going to pay for his mistakes if someone decides to come after you during it. If you’re there with him and they know it, they won’t come looking here. Trust me, I want you gone as soon as possible, but until that pilot gets back, we have to fucking wait. Threaten him all you want when you see him, but he has to get out of all of this alive.” He stares hard at me, his eyes glassy, serious. “Agree to that, and I’ll do everything I can to get you there.”

I stand up, holding his gaze. “Fine.”

He looks me over before walking to the bedroom door. Before he goes, he says, “This whole fucking arrangement better triple my income when it’s over.” The door clicks shut behind him, and I release a ragged breath, slouching back down on the bench, formulating the rest of my plan.