The heavy weight of suspicion hung over me like a suffocating shroud.
Soldiers tracked my every movement when I delivered bread to the gates. Maids abruptly stopped talking when I entered a room.
But I didn't care.
I had the Exit Exam.
It was the final test for the out-of-state university transfer. My golden ticket out of this hellhole.
I took the test online in the cramped bakery office, my hands shaking slightly over the keyboard. I forced myself to focus, pouring every ounce of my rage and pain into the answers.
When I finally clicked 'Submit', I felt physically lighter.
"You need to eat," Giulia said, appearing at the door. She grabbed my arm gently. "Come on. The commissary has those imported chocolates you like. My treat."
I was too tired to argue.
We walked to the compound store. It was crowded with off-duty guards and staff.
Giulia was prattling on about some guard she liked, but her voice faded into white noise the moment I saw them.
Dante and Bianca.
They were standing by the espresso machine. Bianca was laughing, her hand resting possessively on Dante's forearm. Dante was leaning down, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle.
They looked perfect. The King and Queen of the underworld.
Beautiful. Lethal. Untouchable.
"I heard he was at your desk," Giulia whispered, following my gaze.
I froze. "What?"
"Dante," she murmured. "Before the audit started. I saw him near the bakery office. Maybe... maybe he was looking for evidence to clear you?"
I looked at him again.
He wasn't looking for evidence to clear me.
He was the Underboss. If he wanted to clear me, he could have done it with a single word.
He was letting this happen.
Suddenly, Dante looked up. His eyes locked onto mine across the room.
He didn't smile. He didn't frown. He just stared, his face a beautiful, blank mask.
I realized then that I wasn't the villain in his story. I wasn't the love interest.
I was an NPC. A non-player character. A background extra meant to be sacrificed so the main characters could have their drama.
I squeezed Giulia's hand.
"He wasn't looking for evidence, Giulia," I said, my voice sounding dead to my own ears. "He was burying the body."
I turned my back on Dante Vitiello.
And for the first time in four years, I didn't feel a thing.
"Let's go," I said. "I have a future to pack for."
We walked out into the sunlight, leaving the shadows where they belonged.
But shadows have a nasty habit of stretching.
And the sun was already beginning to set.
