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And when his eyes meet mine, everything inside me goes silent.

“Your family,” he says softly, “has been ruined. Completely.”

A cold tremor runs down my spine. “Why?”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing with something like bitter amusement. “You’ll understand soon.”

I can hardly breathe. “Lorenzo, what do you want?”

His lips curl into a smile that is not a smile at all. “You.”

The air leaves my lungs. “Me?” I whisper. “What does that mean?”

Lorenzo steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the table. “It means your parents have agreed to give me what I want.”

My heart free-falls. “What did you do?” I breathe.

“We had no choice, Victoria. He made us an offer. To fix everything,” my father tells me, as if that explains anything.

Breathe.

Fucking breathe.

I need to pull my shit together and figure out what the hell he’s talking about.

My fingers dig into the back of a chair. “An offer that involves me?”

“Victoria—” My mother speaks, but I have no interest in hearing anything she has to say right now.

“No,” I snap, staring at them both. “You sold me? You sold me off like inventory?”

Lorenzo chuckles, a low, vicious sound. “Inventory?” He taps the table with one gloved finger. “No, sweetheart. Inventory is replaceable.”

My blood runs cold.

“You,” His eyes devour my fear, “were the price.”

I stumble backward like he physically struck me. “My god.”

Lorenzo watches me fall apart with calm fascination. Something tells me he’s waited a long time for this moment.

“What kind of monster are you?” I whisper.

He smiles. Cold and violent. Beautiful in a way that makes my skin crawl.

“The one you created.”

“I-I didn’t—”

He raises a brow. “You broke me once. I’m simply returning the favor.”

I want to scream. I want to run. I want to crawl across the table and claw his eyes out. I want to cry for the boy I loved and strangle the man he’s become. Maybe I can do both? Something tells me I wouldn’t make it an inch before a gun is pointed at my head.

Neither is an option. “You can’t do this,” I manage to choke out.

“Oh, I can,” he answers, rising slowly from his seat. “And I already have.” He buttons his jacket with a smooth, practiced motion. “The arrangements are made. The deal is sealed. Your parents traded your future for their lives.”

I stare at them. It can’t be true. It can’t be . . . but when I see my mother’s face and that of my father’s, I know it is. “You agreed to marry me off without even asking me?”