Then the rage takes over. His features clench and the hardened animalistic look on his rugged face returns. He resembles a caged beast desperate to be released.
“We have what you want, Nero,” Dad announces, holding up the snow globe. “The key to your precious one-of-a-kind cure. All we ask is for fifty percent of the profits, and it’s yours.”
Nero’s left brow rises as if amused. “And here I thought dear Matteo was bringing me the girl. What happened to my loyal employee?”
“Ignazio killed him,” Mom answers, shrugging. “Then we killed Ignazio. Business is business.”
The tension in the room heightens to a new degree. Nero sets down his fork and rises from his chair, a sudden angry and predatory vibe about him.
“I should’ve known,” he says. “The grimy employees who thought they could betray me. Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out who stole from me?”
“We knew you would. We just didn’t give a damn.”
“Show me the key,” he demands. “Then I’ll consider your deal.”
Dad’s smile is triumphant as he moves toward the table clutching the snow globe in one hand and his pistol in the other. He pries open the snow globe’s base. Water, fake snow and glitter spill across Nero’s pristine white tablecloth.
He reaches inside, his fingers digging around the secret compartment for the tiny little object that’ll make him rich like he’s always dreamed.
His face goes slack with shock.
“What the fuck?” He turns the globe over, shaking it desperately. Nothing falls out but more snowflakes, more glitter. “Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”
“You were trying to pull off another scam,” Nero says dryly. “Why am I not surprised?”
Dad rounds on me, his face twisted with rage. “What did you do with it? Where is it?”
But I’m not looking at him. I’m looking at Caelian, who’s been watching the scene unfold with the patience of a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
That moment comes all at once.
Caelian pivots, his gun swinging away from Nero to target Dad. The gunshot reverberates through the dining room like a crack of thunder. Dad’s body jerks forward as blood explodes from his back.
But Nero is faster than any of us anticipated. His weapon appears in his hand in one of the fastest draws I’ve ever witnessed, his finger curling around the trigger and squeezing tightly.
His shot sends a second deafening crack through the room.
The bullet takes Caelian in the chest, sending him staggering backward.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Nevaeh
“CAELIAN!”
The scream tears from my throat as his body staggers, blood blooming across his white shirt like a deadly flower.
I don’t even register Dad’s body hitting the ground beside me.
There’s only Caelian—always only Caelian—as I throw myself toward him, my desperation making me clumsier than I’ve ever been as a ballerina.
I crash to my knees beside him. His gray eyes find mine through the haze of his pain. His jaw’s clenched and teeth are gritted, like even now he’s trying to fight through how much it hurts.
After a lifetime of pain, he’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.
I clutch at him, slick blood seeping between my fingers, right over his damaged heart.
The heart that’s already been poisoned and weakened by years of experimental treatments. The heart that might not survive this.
