Chapter 7 - The Cistern
Dalia woke to rain in her mouth.
Her wrists were bound. Her ankle screamed with pain. Cold water circled her legs. Above her, the opening of the cistern looked impossibly far away, a black circle rimmed by storm.
For several seconds, she could not remember where she was.
Then everything returned.
The hit.
The boots.
The mud.
The hands dragging her.
The sound of Enzo saying, “Do not mark her face. Marsh wants confirmation before the water finishes it.”
Dalia tried to stand straighter, but her ankle buckled. She bit down on a cry.
The water was rising.
Not fast enough to be merciful.
Fast enough to make panic count every breath.
“Help!” she screamed.
Thunder swallowed her voice.
She screamed again.
Nothing.
The restraints cut into her wrists when she twisted. She searched the stone walls with her hands, but they were slick with moss. No footholds. No ladder. No rope.
Of course there was no rope.
They had thought of everything.
Everything except Bobby.
The thought came so suddenly that she laughed, then choked on rain.
“Bobby,” she whispered.
But the estate was far. The storm was loud. She was underground.
No dog could find her here.
The water reached her thighs.
Dalia pressed her bound hands against her stomach.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the child. “I am so sorry.”
For the first time since leaving Daniel, she allowed herself to imagine a future she had refused to name.
A small apartment somewhere warm.
A crib by a window.
A job that did not require silence.
A child who would never hear Daniel Marsh’s voice. Never know Rowan Fiero’s war. Never learn that blood could be used as a weapon before it even had a name.
The water reached her waist.
Dalia tilted her head back and screamed until her throat tore.
Above, something moved.
She froze.
A shape crossed the mouth of the cistern.
For one wild second, hope struck so hard it hurt.
“Rowan!”
A face appeared.
Not Rowan.
Enzo.
Rain streamed over his hair and down his smiling face.
“You are difficult to misplace.”
Dalia’s hope collapsed.
“Pull me out.”
“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose.”
“My baby—”
“Is the problem.”
Dalia stared up at him.
Enzo crouched at the edge. “You still don’t understand. Marsh made a mistake touching you. Then he made a worse one letting you run. Now you are evidence with a heartbeat.”
“Evidence of what?”
Enzo’s smile faded.
For the first time, he looked truly angry.
“That outsiders were invited into family business. That Salvatore needed Marsh. That Isla was not the bride Rowan chose but the key we placed in his lock.”
“And the baby?”
“Proof Daniel Marsh had his own plan. A child gives him leverage. Against you. Against Isla. Against us.”
“So you kill me for him?”
“No,” Enzo said. “We kill you before he can use you against us.”
Dalia’s mouth trembled.
“Rowan will find out.”
“Rowan finds many things. Usually after they are already dead.”
Enzo stood.
“Goodbye, Dalia.”
He disappeared into the storm.
The water rose to her ribs.
Minutes lost meaning.
Dalia’s body shook so violently her teeth knocked together. She tried to pray but could not remember the words. She tried to think but terror broke every thought into pieces.
Then, above the storm, she heard barking.
Deep.
Furious.
Alive.
Dalia sobbed.
“Bobby!”
The mastiff appeared at the edge, massive head outlined by lightning. He barked again and vanished.
“No! Bobby, no!”
But he was not leaving.
He was leading.
Another figure reached the edge.
Rowan Fiero looked down into the cistern.
For the first time since she had known him, his calm was gone.
“Dalia.”
She tried to answer, but her body failed.
Rowan turned and shouted orders into the storm.
A rope dropped.
Then another.
“Can you hold on?”
“My hands—”
“I am coming down.”
“No, the water—”
He was already climbing.
Rowan descended into the cistern with rain hammering his shoulders and fury burning in his face. The water reached his chest when he landed beside her. He cut the restraints with a knife and caught her before she collapsed.
“You found me,” she gasped.
“Bobby found you.”
The dog barked above them as if offended by the obviousness of this.
Rowan wrapped the rope around her beneath her arms.
“Listen to me. They are going to pull you up first.”
“No. The drive—”
“I have you.”
“They’ll kill you.”
May you like
Rowan looked at her, water and blood on his face.
“No,” he said. “They just reminded me why I stopped being merciful.”
