My pulse slows like the calm before a storm. Then it explodes as a surge of adrenaline rushes through my veins. I find I can no longer control myself as I give into the pent-up rage I’ve long held for my treacherous cousin.
He doesn’t see it coming.
One second he’s pacing Nero’s executive office on the phone. The next, I’m barreling toward him like a rhinoceros on the attack.
I crash into him like a battering ram, driving him to the ground in a crushing tackle. I land on top, clenching my hand into his shirt as I draw back my other fist.
“Caelian… what the—” he gasps, but that’s all he gets out.
My fist collides with his face with a crunch that vibrates up through my knuckles. It’s the first hit of several to come as I pull back my fist for another.
“I’ve been waiting,” I snarl between blows, “for a day like today.”
His head jerks to the side, a trail of blood smeared along his jaw, and for once, the bastard has nothing to say.
Good.
Because I’m just getting started.
TWENTY-FIVE
Nevaeh
“Where are you taking me?"I ask for what must be the tenth or eleventh time since we left Caelian’s estate. I strain against the ropes binding my wrists, still trying to work them loose despite their impossibly tight knots.
I’m buckled into the front passenger seat of Matteo’s black SUV as we drive further away from Caelian’s estate and deeper into Dresden.
He’s not only taken me hostage, he made me grab the snow globe I’d hidden away. Apparently, he’s been keeping a much closer eye on me than I had ever realized.
He doesn't answer, like he’s ignored me every other time I’ve asked. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel. The city lights of Dresden blur past the tinted windows—neon signs advertising late-night dance clubs and entertainment shows, the occasional flicker of a streetlight cutting through the growing darkness.
"Matteo!” I scream. “Tell me where you’re?—"
"Shut up!” he snaps. "Just shut the fuck up for five minutes, will you? Jesus H. Christ, if I knew Cael’s little ballerina was this annoying and mouthy, I would’ve brought some duct tape to slap over that mouth of yours.”
I twist in the leather seat, trying to find a position that doesn't make the ropes cut deeper. My wrists ache from the rough, frayed material digging into such delicate skin. My hands have started to go numb from how tightly he’s tied me up.
I ,fought him as hard as I could when he first took me from the estate, but he was simply stronger and bigger and I’ve been more exhausted than usual the past few days…
The familiar streets of Dresden roll past—the theater district where I used to dance, the financial quarter where wealthy men conduct their business, the subway stations thousands of people rush through every day.
"He's going to kill you for this," I say quietly. "You know that, right? When Caelian finds out what you've done?—"
"Caelian ain't gonna find out shit!” Matteo cuts me a sideways glance, his teeth gritted. "By the time he figures it out, you'll be long gone and I'll be somewhere tropical with enough cash to never look back."
The SUV turns down a narrow side street I recognize—we’re in Old Italy, where many of the first Italian families in Dresden once lived and opened their small businesses. Most of the places are closed now, victims of gentrification and mob violence. Only a few remain, most notably of allVecoli.
The restaurant known to belong to Nero himself.
"Almost there," Matteo mutters, more to himself than to me. He checks his watch again, then his phone. "Come on, come on. Don't be late now."
He swings into a space marked “no parking,” twisting off the ignition.
“Get out. You heard me!”
I’m trying to make the most of my weight, planting my feet on the ground to prevent him from moving me.
My resistance lasts for about two seconds before he’s practically lifting me off the ground and carrying me toward the restaurant.
