Someone cuts off the music. The silence that follows is alive with a heart that beats. A man groans, and all around me, I smell the coppery scent of blood over that of basement and puke and piss.

“I plan to take my time,” Bastian is saying, and Amadeo stops pounding the unconscious man. His eyes meet mine, and what I see in them, it makes my heart stop. Makes my throat close up so I can’t breathe.

He stands, and they both turn their full attention to me. Something gives and a tidal wave of emotion overwhelms me. A keening like that of an animal comes from deep inside my chest, and I think I’m going to choke on it. This thing that won’t let me breathe, that’s been inside me so long it’s a part of me. It’s all of it. Everything that’s happened. Tonight. The nights before. My father’s death. The funeral. That book and what it accuses my brother of. Amadeo and Bastian.

The nightmares of another basement. Another violent night.

A jacket is draped over me, and I smell a familiar aftershave. It’s warm. He just took it off. A hand closes on the back of my head, cupping it tenderly. But it’s that gentle touch that brings out the animal inside me. It’s then I find my voice and scream and scream. I spin as I scream bloody murder grabbing hold of a shard of glass because I will dig it into his eye even if it cuts me through. Even if they kill me for it. But I won’t let them touch me. I won’t let any of them touch me.

“Fuck!” Glass crunches under Bastian’s shoes. He catches my arm and squeezes my wrist, forcing me to drop the glass to the floor. “You’re safe. Vittoria. Look at me.” I shove against him, and he releases my wrist. The jacket slips from me as I try to scramble away through this carpet of broken bottles.

“Vittoria. Look at me.” It’s Amadeo’s voice now. I’m backed into a corner, the wall cold against my bare skin. “Vittoria.”

I claw around me for a weapon. More glass. A gun. Anything. And when he puts his hands on me and gives me a shake, I attack, clawing at his face and arms and screaming like an animal until he slaps me, stunning me.

My head jerks to the side, and I’d fall over if he didn’t catch me. Pulling me to him, he presses my face into his chest. My cheek stings from where he hit me, but it has its desired effect. I’m not screaming. Clawing. Attacking like some beast.