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“I’d rather die than see you with another man.” I cup her face in my hand, everything spilling out now, when there’s nothing left to lose. We’ll get away, or I’ll get caught, but there’s no pointin holding any of it back now. “I love you, Estella. How could you think that I could ever leave you?”

“I don’t want to see you die!” she cries out, and tears spill over the edge of her lashes. “I wanted you to live!” She shoves at my chest, hard, the tears coming faster now. “I wanted one of us to get to really live!”

I thought my heart broke the night that Antony dragged me away from her. I thought I knew what it felt like to have it splinter to pieces, to feel myself bleeding out on the inside. But no pain I’ve felt before, be it that or the physical pain I suffered that night, can compare to the agony of seeing Estella cry for me. The pain of knowing that she’s willing to sacrifice her own happiness just so I can live my life.

She leans into my touch even as she’s saying it, as if she’s soaking up these last moments with me, this last chance to touch each other before it all falls apart. I reach up with my thumb, brushing away a tear sliding down her cheek.

“Living without you isn’t living at all,” I murmur fiercely, pulling her closer. “I’d rather Antony had killed me that night if this was all just going to end in walking away from you.”

Her hands clutch at my shirt. “He’s not just going to kill you outright, Sebastian, you know that. I don’t know how anything can be worse than what he did last time, but somehow, he’ll figure out a way?—”

A groan from behind us cuts her off. Vito stirs on the ground, blood smeared across his face as he rolls onto his side. His eyes flutter open, disoriented at first, then sharpening with rage when they land on me.

"You're fucking dead," he spits, fumbling for his phone. His fingers leave bloody smears on the screen as he punches in a number.

I should kill him now. It would be easy—he's still dazed, barely able to sit up. One more blow to knock him out andanother well-placed one after could end this, but I can't do it with Estella watching. Not like this.

I look back at her, feeling as if my heart is cracking in two. I know what a life with Vito will be like for her. I know what he’ll do to her—what he’s already tried to do to her tonight and even before. I know that assault and violence will become a part of her daily life. How can I leave her to that, when I vowed to protect her?

I can’t protect her here any longer, and I can’t leave and keep her safe unless I take her with me. But if we run away together, Vito and her father will hunt us to the ends of the earth. We’ll never be fully safe again.

But she’s not safe here at all.

I look at her tear-stained, terrified face, and I think of every day that will follow this one, if I leave. Of the tears, and the bruises, and the pain he can inflict on her that will never go away. Of her, forced to marry him, to bear his children, of what those children will see their father do to their mother.

The choice in front of me, I realize, isn’t really a choice at all. It never really was.

"We need to go," I tell her, already scanning the gardens for the quickest escape route. "Now. Come with me, please." I reach up, brushing my thumb across the edge of her jaw. “I can’t live without you, Estella, and I can’t leave you here to let him hurt you. If I stay, I die. If we leave—I don’t know what happens. But I need you. I love you. Please come with me.”

Estella's eyes dart between me and Vito, who's slurring orders into his phone. "My father?—"

"Will hunt us down. I know." I take her hand, squeezing it gently. "But we'll have a head start if we leave now."

For a moment, she hesitates, and I think she might refuse. Then her chin lifts, that familiar determination hardening herfeatures. "The east gate. Where we left to go to Marilee’s party. There's that service road?—"

"You're not going anywhere," Vito snarls, struggling to his feet. Blood drips from his nose, staining his expensive suit. "Gallo's whore daughter and her guard dog. How fucking poetic."

I step in front of Estella, shielding her with my body. "Watch your mouth."

He laughs, a wet, ugly sound. "Or what? You're already dead, Sinclair. The only question is how long it takes." He gestures toward the mansion with his phone. "My men are coming. Antony's men too. You think you can outrun all of them?"

As if on cue, I hear shouts from the direction of the house. Footsteps pounding on the garden stones, heading our way. They're coming.

"Sebastian," Estella whispers, her hand finding mine. "We have to go."

My heart leaps in my chest at the knowledge that she’s coming with me, even as I can’t help doubting whether or not I’ve made the right choice. I’m putting her in danger—but she’s in danger here too. I’m afraid that it’s a losing game no matter what we do.

But I can’t walk away from her. If that’s the worst sin I've ever committed, then maybe I haven’t lived so bad of a life after all.

I nod, not taking my eyes off Vito. "Stay behind me."

I back away from Vito with quick, measured steps, keeping Estella behind me as we move toward the eastern edge of the garden where the high stone walls give way to a wrought iron gate. Vito watches us, a smirk twisting his bloodied lips.

"That's right, run," he taunts. "It'll be more fun to hunt you down."

The shouts grow louder. I catch glimpses of dark suits through the rose bushes, men fanning out through the garden. We're almost at the gate when Vito raises his voice.

"They're here! The east gate!"