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“NO. I'll take care of this, it was my fuck up, so I'll do it. This is how you wanted it done. You don't want to kill Remo, if we snub her too, then what? Do we kill them both?”

There was a long, excruciating pause between both men. I found myself leaning closer to the edge of the bed, trying to find the answer myself. My ears were popping, a ringing inside my head had sprung to life and was making it hard to hear anything at all.

I wasn't ready to die. And all I could hope was that Bane would lower his gun and let me live. Just a little while longer, that was all I wanted.

As if the force above had heard my prayers, the gun lifted off my skin, leaving its impression in memory.

“Fine, you fix this. Get me what's owed to me, and make sure you don't screw up anything else, Dante.”

“I will, don't I always?”

“I'm serious, Dante, take care of it. And when you get what's owed to us, take care of her.” Bane stuffed his gun back into place, and both men walked out the door as if I hadn't been in the room to begin with.

No one looked at me, no one said a word to me. They just left as if this was all normal, just another conference call about business.

But this was nothing like that. This was about me, about a person who ended up in the wrong place because of circumstance.

Their feet thudded back down the stairs, leaving me to keep breathing. I felt numb. I was here because of Remo, but not for the reasons I thought. He hadn't grown tired of me, this wasn't some trick of his to get me to crack and give him my virginity.

The Pisanis didn't have me because he asked them to take me . . . Remo had screwed up, and I was left to mend the pieces he had broken.

Could it still be a game?

The idea made me flood with feelings, too many to sift through. But one stood out, one took hold and consumed me.

Anger—it came in and swept my body. I was being used, a slave to another owner for money. For a second time, someone had killed who I was to gain in their own lives.

My name was no longer mine, my life no longer meaningful, my world no longer a choice of my own. My hands were tied, literally.

I felt like I had sat there inside my own head forever. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. I was so wrapped up in my hatred for being forced here that I hadn't heard Dante come back in.

“Ivy?”

Slowly lifting my head off my chest, I looked up at my captor. “What?”

“Here.” Shoving a plate onto the bed, Dante sat on the corner of the mattress.

There was a sandwich on the plate, a handful of chips, and a bottle of water. “And what am I supposed to do with that?” Shaking my wrists, the cuffs clanked against the headboard.

Hanging his head, a tight smirk peeled to one side. “I'm not un-cuffing you.”

“I'm not hungry then.”

His thick fingers wrapped around the sandwich, tearing off a bite-sized piece. Lifting it to my mouth, he nudged it against my lips.

He was lucky I didn't bite his fucking finger off.

I wasn't taking his food. I didn't want anything from him, not a fucking thing. I didn't want to give him any reason to hold anything against me. If he fed me I might owe him more. Wasn't that how this shit worked?

They give you things and you're forced to repay them in some twisted mind game. Work in order to get food, cleaning to gain more string on my leash.

One task for another breath of air.

Fuck that.

I wasn't going to owe anyone shit.

I would starve to death before giving this family one fucking ounce to hold over my head. Dante could keep his food, keep his clothes, and I was going to keep my self-preservation.