I groan. I know where this is going, and I hate it already. Maksim’s plans are as dangerous as Dima’s.
“We can’t burn him. Matthias will lose his shit. He doesn’t have enough backing to pull it off alone,” I warn.
“So we make an alliance,” Leon cuts in smoothly, already on Maksim’s wavelength. “He’s right. Someone out there wants her out of Christian’s hands as much as we do. They just don’t know it yet.”
My stomach sinks. I already know.
“Tell me you’re not proposing what I think you’re proposing.”
The smirks around the table confirm it.
Matthias is going to toast my ass.
five
The sky begins to darken as the hour grows late. Storm clouds threaten to drop rain on those who have come to pay their respects at the gravesite. The days are growing colder, the forecast taking a turn for the worse as the briskness of fall fades into an icy winter.
I know this day is coming the moment Christian so callously informs me of Elias’s death.
Standing over the closed casket of the man I once called father, I hug my jacket closer to my body, staving off the chill of the winter wind that bites viciously into my exposed skin. The gazes of the men around us drift between Christian and me, their faces a mix of anger and confusion as they take in my position at his side.
Some of them know who I am. Their places in Elias’s inner circle grant them privileged information not available to the masses. The others—well, the only thing they know about me is I’ve been stolen from Matthias. None of them know me as Elias’s fake daughter.
To them, I’m just a spoil of war. An enemy. Someone close to the man they believe responsible for their leader’s death, as well as his daughter’s.
I didn’t think Christian would allow me to accompany him. It’s a risk to have me out in the open. But now that I’m here, I know exactly why he’s brought me.
A power play.
He’s telling theFamigliahe has me on a tight leash. That I’m where I belong.
Under his control.
God knows he doesn’t deserve my tears. Hell, he doesn’t even deserve this funeral. No, my unshed tears are for Libby, whose own closed casket lies next to his, completely identical, from the solid cherry poplar wood exterior down to the plush red velvet interior in a French fold design.
It’s sickening.
Libby always said she wanted to be cremated and spread out on a cliff where the wind could take her on a new adventure. Instead, my little sister will be buried next to a monster.
The thought of her being laid to rest here, with the likes of him, breaks my heart.
Her death, I know, isn’t my fault. The burden of it shouldn’t weigh down my soul. But it does. Christian’s perverted obsession with me is what ultimately led to her execution. There’s a small moment, just one second in time, when I pray I’m wrong. That what I saw at the wedding is part of the ultimate plan and maybe, just maybe, she isn’t really gone.
I should know better than to pray to a god who never listens.
The bitter truth of her death is laid before my eyes, and all I feel is the intense urge to gut Christian and his men from stem to stern.
To paint the town red with their blood.
To make everyone understand my pain.
They’ll get theirs. I’ll make sure of that.
Father Bianchi recites his prayers, but the words are nothing more than rushing water through my mind as I pull my attention away from the monotony of his useless eulogy. I let my gaze wander over the graveyard, taking in the attendees with rapt attention. If there’s one thing Elias taught me, it’s that information is power.
The more of it you have, the more power you have over people—the more you can manipulate them. Play them like pawns on a chessboard. A ready sacrifice.
The problem? People are unpredictable, easy to shift alliances at a moment’s notice. Elias once had power over many of the men here. He even had power over Christian. Look where that got him.
