The voice booms through the room, vibrating in my chest. The bedroom door, already hanging crooked on its hinges, is pushed open further. It is Santino’s father. He stands there with his chest heaving, his face pale and lined with deep worry.

He looks older than I have ever seen him, his eyes wide with shock at the sight of his wife hovering over me like a demon.

I don’t waste a second. As Eleanor’s grip falters in surprise, I twist my body and scramble out from under her. My bare feet ...