At least I was still alive. And this time, I had a life worth defending.
I wanted to drive home, but the memory surfaced like a slap: Salvatore had taken my bag. He'd slung it over his shoulder without asking, the way he always did, as though carrying my things entitled him to carry my fate. I had no choice but to follow the three figures ahead of me along the gravel path that wound through the estate gardens.
They stopped near a hedge of overgrown boxwood, half-hidden by shadow. I heard Salvatore's voice before I saw him, low and grating with impatience.
"Rosalia, baby, how long are we supposed to keep up this act? I can't stomach it anymore. Seraphina's out here playing games nobody asked her to play. Who knows what kind of filth she's dragged herself through?"