I riffle through the new clothes, the glossy red on my fingernails flashing from the small, crystal-like chandelier above.

Patanza was right. Mrs. Molina does have good taste. I pluck out a blue maxi dress. It’s lovely, with sleeves, made of a light, soft cotton.

I take a rapid shower, blow-dry the kinks out of my hair, and then get dressed in it.

As I’m sliding my feet into a pair of sandals, the door opens, and Draco walks in. He catches me leaning on the mattress to buckle my sandal, and his head goes into a slight tilt.

“You’re up,” he murmurs, somewhat surprised, sliding the tips of his fingers into his pocket.

“Yep.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be. Thought I was going to have to drag you out of bed today.” He walks to the left, looking me over. “How do you feel?”

“Better.”

He continues his stare. He’s quiet for a minute, then looks at his brown dresser against the wall. “I know you were using the pills. That’s how you were sleeping through the day without being disturbed or scared awake.”

When he says that, I lift my head up to stare at him. “I needed them.” I say it hard enough for him to take my statement seriously.

“You can’t take too many, Gianna. They are only for severe situations.”

“And you don’t think that was a severe situation?” I snap, straightening my back.

His face remains even. His expression doesn’t change. “No more pills,” he orders.

“Fine.” I drop my foot and straighten my back. “Then give me something else to drown out the memories. Alcohol, preferably vodka.”

“I’m not letting you drown them out. I want you to feel them. You can’t sleep on the shit that’s happened and think everything will be okay later. It will only make you feel worse. You want to forget about that shit, you make it fucking happen by doing something bigger than what caused you pain. You do whatever you can to make sure it never fucking happens again.”

“I’m not killing them,” I tell him. “I’m not. It’s not who I am. I don’t kill people.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead he turns and walks through the door again. In the hallway, he turns to look at me.

“Breakfast,” is all he says and then strides off.

* * *

I can feel him watching me as I devour my meal. I eat it properly, but I’m hardly taking breaths between bites. I’m so hungry today. Considering I didn’t eat the food he brought up to the room the past two days, I shouldn’t be so surprised.

Mrs. Molina is here, and she hasn’t said a word since I’ve shown up. Her eyes scream it all, though. She wants to apologize a thousand times for what’s happened, even though it wasn’t even her fault.

Patanza stands at the door, along with another guard. He’s bulky, but not so bulky that it’s intimidating. They both have their eyes on the wall across from them, jaws fixed, stances straight.

After finishing off my pineapple juice, I sit back in my chair, allowing my meal to settle.

“You were hungry,” Draco notes.

“Yeah,” I respond.

“Glad to see you eating.” Draco looks at his mother. “Mamá you’ve barely touched your food.”

“I don’t have much of an appetite, son,” she says in Spanish, avoiding his eyes.

He notices and focuses on his plate, pretending he’s not bothered by it, but I know he is. “Gianna, I want to show you something. Are you up for it?”

I sit up a bit. “Show me what?”

“Come.” He pushes out of his throne-like chair and walks past mine to get to the door. He stops right before walking out and looks back at me, tilting an eyebrow.

I push out of my chair as well, meeting up to him. When I’m right beside him, he turns right and walks down the corridor that leads to his galería.

Ugh. Not this again. I’m not up for manipulative sex today.

Would he even dare, after knowing what happened to me? I shouldn’t be so shocked if he does. I can’t forget that he’s still a heartless, cruel bastard, just like the rest of them.

We make it down the staircase and to the door. He unlocks it and walks in. I follow after him, and when he steps to the right, I do the same.

“I remember this when I used to visit the U.S.” His voice is mellow. I have no idea what he’s talking about, and frankly, I don’t care right now.

He walks forward and up the stairs. I hear rustling and things moving, but then it stops.

And then I hear a violin start to play.

The song is so damn raw, bittersweet and familiar, that I freeze exactly where I stand. I look toward the sound, eyes stretched wide, mouth halfway open.

Draco comes to the top of the stairs with the violin in his large hands, his chin resting on the chinrest and the body extending out.

His head is at an angle, and he is focused on the instrument, strumming slowly during some notes, quickening at others.

Tears creep to my eyes—unwanted, annoying tears.

That was . . . Mom’s lullaby.

Her song.

She hummed it to me when I was a little girl and even as I got older.

She played it for me and even tried to teach me, but I wasn’t as gifted as her. I’m still not, but Draco?

He hits every chord and note to near perfection. He plays so well that I feel like Mom is here, playing for me. I feel her spirit dwelling, and her angelic arms wrapping around me, silently telling me things will be okay again.

I feel her—like she’s standing right beside me.

When he stops, the silence is deafening. Her warm arms are gone.

I hear my pounding pulse.

I feel hotness rolling down my cheeks.

I see him. Draco. There. Looking down at me.

“She taught you,” I breathe out.

“The whole thing. During the summers, Mamá would make me go to your mother’s music studio for two hours every day just to learn. She was a patient woman. She had to be, dealing with someone like me.” He smirks, just barely. I’m still stuck.

I don’t even know what to say.

Or how to react.

Mom loved music. She loved her violin. It’s still in storage back in the U.S . . . well, I hope it is. Knowing my people, they’ve probably presumed us dead and sold all of Toni’s belongings and mine as well. Mama’s violin was mine.

Fire streams through my veins. My tears continue falling, even though I’m fighting hard to make them stop. So many feelings overwhelm me, all at once. Too many to handle.

Mom.

Daddy.

Happiness.

Innocence.

Oh, how I miss them.

I swipe my face, catching a glimpse of the red nail polish.

Daddy. Damn it, Daddy!

I turn away and burst through the door, zooming up the steps.

“Gianna!” Draco calls after me. He sounds sad, maybe even a little worried.

But I don’t stop.

I rush down the corridor and then I hear boots on the marble. Patanza and the other guard must have heard Draco’s voice, because they step around the corner to look in my direction.

They watch me dash by them with my head down, my arms pumping.

They don’t dare stop me.

But something else does.

Well, someone else, rather.