He pointed a thick, stubby finger in my direction.

I shrank further into the shadow of the safe, my hand clutching the diamond ring on my finger.

“She is under my roof,” Damiano said.

“She is a liability,” Enzo said, his voice rising.

“Marcus is going to ruin everything we built because you want a new toy.”

“Enzo,” Damiano said, his tone dropping to a whisper.

“Choose your next words very carefully.”

“I am choosing my survival, Damiano,” Enzo spat.

“The rest of the captains agree.”

“We are not going to war with a politician over a runaway girl.”

“Hand her over to Marcus, or throw her out on the street.”

“Either way, she leaves tonight.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I looked at the back of Damiano’s head, waiting for his reaction.

If he handed me over, I knew I would not survive the week.

Marcus would make sure my death was slow and quiet.

But I also knew I was not entirely helpless.

During the years I had lived with Marcus, I had seen things.