Don Augusta took me in to help protect his family—not become one of them, even if he gave me his name.
And it doesn’t feel right taking the place that any of them would rightfully inherit if he hadn’t been so generous.
“I’m not in this for the power,” I state, “I’m doing this for revenge, to right the wrong and avenge our father’s murder—and Genevieve’s,” I add, gesturing to Raf to acknowledge his wife’s death.
The atmosphere of the room turns grave again as Raf’s eyebrows press together, and I want to diffuse the tension that continues to swell.
“Besides, I was built for spilling blood, not sitting behind a fancy desk,” I say with a smirk.
My brothers chuckle as the strain between us releases.
“Once we’ve had our revenge, I fully intend to back your claim as Don, Gio,” I add, clapping my younger brother on the shoulder.
He flashes me a grin and taps his glass against mine. “Then, I couldn’t hope for a better right-hand man.”
“Salute,” the twins toast, raising their glasses as well.
We finish our drinks, and without discussing the matter, we all seem to agree it’s time to turn in for the evening.
It’s been a long day, and we’re just getting started on our plans.
It’s going to take all our effort and determination to reclaim what we’ve lost, and a good night’s rest will serve us better than another sleepless night.
We disperse in different directions, each heading toward a separate wing of the house—something we seem to do naturally after living on the Chiaroscuro estate our whole lives.
I climb the stairs toward the hall of rooms where Anika is currently being held, and I’m glad to see Marco standing steadfast at her door.
Not that I don’t trust my men to follow orders, but when it comes to Pyotr’s Russian bride, I find my protective instincts a bit on overdrive.
“She give you any trouble?” I ask, stopping in front of Marco.
He shakes his head. “I haven’t heard a peep since I took over for Vittorio.”
My eyebrows furrow, my heart fluttering anxiously in my chest as I frown at the door. “You’re sure she’s in there?”
“She was when Vittorio delivered her dinner.”
My spike of agitation calms, and I silently chide myself for getting worked up over nothing.
Dinner wasn’t more than a few hours ago.
And if Anika hasn’t come through this door, she couldn’t have escaped.
I inspected the room myself before leaving her in it. I’m just being paranoid. Still, my urge to check on her is almost overwhelming.
I consider it for a long moment, hesitating in the hallway, sorely tempted to go inside.
But Anika has been through enough for one day. Her life has been completely turned upside down—she witnessed me killing her husband in cold blood.
She deserves a bit of time to wrap her mind around her new fate.
With a curt nod, I leave Marco to finish his shift in peace, heading down the hall toward the bedroom I picked out for my new accommodations.
8
ANIKA
My muscles aches with tension as I rise from fitful dreams of red-eyed monsters seeping blood from countless holes, and I find myself curled up beneath the window of my makeshift prison.
