Chapter 3

Tessa's POV

"Open the door." Grayson stands in front of the heavy iron door of the cistern.

The guard pulls it open, and a thick wave of rot hits everyone in the face.

The men behind Grayson can't help covering their noses, but Grayson just frowns and walks straight in.

At the center of the cistern, my body still hangs from the chains, head down, hair matted with blood and swamp water, plastered against my pale scalp.

A film of dark red scum floats on the water. That's my blood, drained out of me.

Grayson stands at the edge of the pool, staring up at me. A flicker of surprise crosses his face, but it's gone fast, swallowed by rage.

"How much longer are you going to keep this up, Tessa?" His voice is ice. "The Council spoke up for you today. You think you've got people backing you now, so you can keep defying me?"

The body doesn't move. The only sound is the low hum of the ventilation fan.

"I'm warning you, my patience has a limit." Grayson takes a step closer. "Lift your head up. Hand over the antidote, then go apologize to Delilah on your knees. This is your last chance."

I float above him, watching him rant at a corpse that's already gone stiff. Part of me almost feels sorry for him.

Grayson, where's that sharp instinct you're always so proud of? Don't you see those pieces of flesh floating on the water? Don't you smell death in the air?

You just can't accept that Tessa, the woman who never talked back, never fought back, would actually use her own death to spite you.

"Boss..." Cole stands behind Grayson, staring at the lifeless body in the water, his voice shaking. "She... she really looks passed out. Should we get her down?"

"Get her down? Who said you could?" Grayson whips around, glaring at Cole. "She's playing mind games with me. You think closing your eyes and playing dead is going to soften me up, Tessa? Not a chance. Get a bucket of water and douse her."

"But she—"

"Now."

Cole runs off and comes back with a bucket, throwing the water at me with his eyes shut.

The body sways slightly against the chains, then goes still again.

I float there, watching Grayson's face darken with fury.

"Good. That's real good." Grayson laughs, and there's nothing funny in it. "You've got guts, Tessa. You think playing the victim is going to make me back down? Keep dreaming."

He walks up to the edge of the pool, teeth clenched.

"I'll give you one last chance. The Council meets tomorrow morning at nine. If you're not standing in front of them, I'll announce it to the whole family. You're done as the Donna. And we're getting a divorce."

He turns and heads for the door, then stops. "After that, you're not the Donna anymore. Just a woman who tried to kill a member of this family. I'll hand you straight to a trafficking ring. You'll wish you were dead."

He walks out without another look, like staying any longer would dirty his eyes.

Grayson, you never change. Always so sure everything's exactly where you want it.

The next morning, the estate's meeting room is packed with elders and capos.

Grayson sits at the head of the table, his face dark. The clock on the wall reads nine fifteen.

"She's still not here?" His fingers drum against the table, anger simmering behind his eyes.

Harlan lets out a cold snort. "Grayson, tell me exactly what you did to that woman. Tessa's never missed a meeting in her life. Something's wrong."

"What could possibly be wrong with her? She's just playing games with me again." Grayson stands, shouting toward the door. "Go to the cistern! Drag her here. Chain her by the neck if you have to, just get her in this room!"

Cole leaves, sweat pouring down his face. Ten minutes later, the door bursts open.

He stumbles in, white as a sheet.

"Boss..."

Grayson's frown deepens. "Well? Where is she?"

Cole drops to his knees, his voice breaking.

"Boss... the Donna... she's dead."