I remembered the night my father’s men dragged him into an alley and beat him until his words turned into broken sounds. I remembered Dimitri begging me not to marry Dominic, his voice hoarse with fear—not for himself, but for his mother, his sister. He said my father would destroy them all if I refused.
I remembered the promise ring warming my palm, still carrying his heat. He had grabbed my legs and begged me to run away with him. God, I wanted to. But I knew my father too well. So I chose survival. I told Dimitri he was poor. That he couldn’t give me the life I needed. I told him he smelled like dirt and debt and threw the ring into the mud.
He picked it up and cried.
He asked me one question—why—and I never answered.
“You remember that night, don’t you?” Dimitri said now, his voice tightly leashed. “You left me standing in the rain. You chose a life that fed you and poisoned you at the same time. You chose it.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
I wanted to tell him that I had regretted it in a thousand silent ways. That every night beside Dominic had felt like penance. But there was no room for confession now. Only Ethan. Only the memory of his screams.