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MARIA

Adull throbbing pulses through my skull as I come to, the metallic taste of blood heavy on my tongue. My eyelids feel like lead, but I force them open, blinking against the dim, flickering light of a single bulb overhead. The air is damp, thick with the scent of pine—and something far more rancid.

Rotting wood… and death?

I scrunch up my nose and groan as I try to get my bearings.

What the hell happened? I blink again, trying to make sense of the confusion that litters my body.

I’m in a cabin.

Panic rises in my chest, cold and sharp. My wrists burn where they’re bound, the rope digging deep into my skin. My legs are numb, tied just as tightly. I glance down at the chair beneath me, lit only by a single overhead bulb that barely cuts through the darkness.

I tug, testing my restraints, but they don’t budge. The rope mars my skin and aches my joints.

“No, no, no…”

Every inch of me aches with rage—but it’s not just anger. It’s desperation. An overwhelming urge to break free.

I want to scream. I want to fight.

But all I can do is listen to the whispers of my own helplessness.

The betrayal, the grief—they claw at me from the inside out.

Should I surrender?

Part of me wants to. Part of me wants to give in, to fall into the enemy’s hands and let it all go.

Because I can’t ignore the truth: Matteo killed my brother.

But I can’t give up.

Not now. Not when I carry life inside me. His child.

My heart feels like it’s being torn in two, each half at war with the other.

I don’t know who to trust anymore—not with everything that’s happened.

But one thing is clear now: I won’t give up.

Not when there’s someone else who needs me to survive.

A soft, unhinged giggle draws my attention to the darkened corner of the room. I know that voice, and it is the last thing I expected to hear in the thick of the tension.

“Emily.” Her name comes out as nothing more than a whisper, a curse that should never be uttered out loud.

“Oh, goody.”

She steps out of the shadows like a slithering monster from the dark. “And here I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

She sways slightly, her pupils blown wide, fingers twitching like she’s not fully in control of her own body.

Her lips are stretched into something that might be a grin—but her eyes… her eyes are wild.

Glitching. Unhinged.

“She’s awake,” she singsongs, taking a stumbling step toward me. “Finally. Daniele, look.”