ra

tarnished with age, stamped with the Moretti crest. It was my father's medallion-the one given to him for twe

a strangled cry ca

er chest and sank into Dante's waiting

ly low. His arms were wrapped around Isabella, but his

t," I said, my

ll bottle from her pocket. "I found

nic. "The pills are mine, but I didn't do it," I insisted, my gaze sna

ordered, stepping in fro

und me, a venomous buzz. "Vicious." "Care

use my father's medallion as a dog toy?" My voice was a bla

on. A flicker of something-recognition, maybe shame-crossed h

ld the medallion out, her hand trembling. Then, ju

slow, perfect arc and disappeared into t

rld s

ing, black water. The shock of the cold was a physical blow, but I barely felt it. I just needed to find it. My han

clutching the medal

or me. He was standing with his arm around Isabella, poi

he stars w

wasn't just in the water; it was in my soul. I re

he saw me. He rushed to the railing. "Are you hurt?" he called down,

lenched fist. "Do you think my father's honor"-I shoute