Chapter 26. A Vow in the Dark

The corridor had gone quiet, but the echo of shouting still clung to the walls like smoke that refused to fade.

Margherita sat frozen on the couch, her fingers knotted in the edge of her robe. Her breath came in shallow pulls, her chest tight as if the air itself resisted her. She’d heard Rico’s curses, the scuffle of boots, the crash of something heavy, and the violent thud of doors slamming shut. Then silence.

She hadn’t dared move.

The door wasn’t even locked, but she couldn’t bring herself to step into that empty hallway. Her wrist throbbed where his fingers had gripped her—a sharp, pulsing ache that seemed to reach the bone. The bruise had already darkened to violet, spreading like spilled ink across her pale skin.

She pressed her hand against it and shivered. The touch made her stomach twist.

The house was still. Only the clock on the wall ticked, slow and deliberate—each second stretching too long, too loud. The sound filled the silence like a he