The moment Elena’s fingers curled around the cold metal of the burner phone, her pulse hammered in her throat like a trapped bird. The device was sleek, untraceable—a lifeline Dante had smuggled into her room while the Rossi estate slept. She traced the edges of the screen, her breath shallow, as if the phone itself might betray her. *One wrong move, and Sophia would have her head.* The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but it wasn’t fear that made her hands tremble—it was the weight of what she was about to do.

She typed the code Dante had drilled into her: **"The wolf howls at midnight."** A second later, the phone buzzed. **"Good girl."** Three words, but they sent heat pooling in her stomach, a reaction she hated and craved in equal measure. She swallowed hard, her fingers flying over the keyboard. **"Sophia knows. She’s watching me."** The reply was instant. **"Then give her a show. Play the victim. Cry if you have to."** Elena’s jaw tightened. *Cry?* She’d spent her life swallowing tears, burying them deep where no one could see. But if that’s what it took to survive this game, she’d do it.