The Runaway Fiancée: Claimed By The Rival

Eliana Carter POV

The emergency room smelled like bleach and other people's bad decisions.

The doctor told me to stay off my ankle for six weeks. He handed me crutches and a prescription for painkillers I had no intention of taking.

I needed the pain.

The pain was the only thing reminding me that I was still in my body, that I hadn't completely dissociated into the ether.

I drove back to the Little Estate one last time.

Not to see Jax.

To see the woman who raised him.

Karen was in the solarium, arranging white lilies in a crystal vase. It was a perfect picture of domestic Mafia bliss—ignore the blood, focus on the blooms.

She looked up as I hobbled in, her eyes scanning the bandage on my ankle.

"You're making a spectacle, Eliana," she said softly.

She snipped a stem.

"Jax is just blowing off steam. Men have needs. You know this."

I walked to the glass table.

I didn't sit down.

Instead, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the engagement ring. It was a five-carat diamond, heavy and cold. It was supposed to be a promise.

It was actually a price tag.

I set it on the table next to her shears. The metal clicked sharply against the glass.

"The engagement is void, Karen."

She stopped snipping. She looked at the ring, then at me.

"You can't void a contract," she said.

"Only the Don can do that."

"My father has already spoken to the Commission," I said.

"The Carters are transferring allegiance. We are under the protection of the New York Syndicate as of an hour ago."

Karen went pale. New York was a rival territory. It was a declaration of war, or at least a massive geopolitical shift in the underworld.

"Jax did this," I said.

"Tell him his asset has liquidated herself."

I turned around.

"Eliana!" she called after me.

"You can't survive out there. You're a canary. You'll die in the wild."

I didn't answer.

I drove my Mercedes to O'Hare International Airport. I parked in the long-term lot, row G.

I left the engine running.

I left the keys on the dashboard.

I left my phone in the cup holder.

Taking only my bag, my passport, and the cash Uncle Sal had given me, I walked away from the car.

I walked away from the Carter name.

I walked away from the girl who thought love was enough to tame a monster.

I boarded a plane to New York City.

As the wheels left the tarmac, I looked down at the sprawling grid of Chicago. It looked small from up here.

It looked like a cage I had finally figured out how to open.