“No more disappearing,” Royal says. He’s pretending my time in captivity was by choice. Like an extended vacation. It’s probably easier for him to think of it that way. It’s not as if he didn’t do the same thing to Leah.
“No.”
Royal downs his drink in one swallow and sets the glass down. He moves around the desk to flank me but doesn’t stop me. “And I can make it official? To the Family?”
“Yes. I’m already acting as the family attorney; I might as well be in truth.” I stop and face him and let him take my face in his hands and kiss my cheeks.
“Then, consigliere, welcome home.”
* * *
“Consigliere?”Victor murmurs as we make our way to the car. Enzo is behind the wheel. Joe, Spiro, and the rest of Stephanos’ old gang are still being vetted. But eventually, they’ll be brought into the Regis regime. Another one of my acts as second in command of the Regis Family.
“Yes. He’s been wanting to make it official for a few months now. It comes with a seat at La Famiglia’s table.” Royal always took my advice before he voted. But now I have a vote of my own.
“There’s another seat free.” The one that belonged to my father and then Gino. “Royal isn’t ready to fill it, but perhaps if an outsider made himself indispensable to the Family. . .”
“Then I’m sure I can make myself useful.”
I sink into the car. It’s not that late, just after sunset, but I’m tired. Royal tried to get us to stay for dinner, threatening to unleash Leah on us, but I negotiated our escape by promising to come back in the morning for brunch.
Victor lets me rest, leaning forward to murmur directions to Enzo.
I must have dozed off because when I open my eyes, the car is pulling up outside the building that houses Victor’s penthouse. The one he originally took me to.
The first time, he carried me in. This time, I walk in of my own volition after Victor helps me from the car.
It feels like a lifetime since I’ve been here. Stephanos is gone. My mother’s been avenged. The truth about my brother is out, and he’ll be punished. And I may have lost a brother, but I gained a lover. Victor brings a handful of made men with him, along with his own unique skills.
Ultimately, La Famiglia has won.
And I’ve claimed a victory of my own.
“Where’s the dungeon?” I ask Victor as we step into the elevator. I have a theory, but I want him to confirm it.
“In the basement.”
I knew it.
He hovers a long finger over the button for the lower floor before he presses the one to take us to the top.
He takes me to the bathroom and positions me in front of the sink. His big hands roam over me, checking for blood, bruises, and tender spots. I took a moment in the bathroom at Royal’s mansion to dust off the worst of the wood splinters and debris that coated my dress and hair from the explosion.
The worst of my wounds are carried over from my time in captivity—the letters carved above my heart. When Victor tackled me to protect me from the explosion, I crashed to the ground. The force broke the fragile skin, and the letters he carved were bleeding again.
I pull down the dress’s square neckline and push my sword necklace aside so Victor can remove the dirty bandage. He growls as he fusses over the marks.
“You’re the one who did this to me.” I roll my eyes at his muttered curses. “It’ll heal.” I stop him before he covers the cuts with another bandage. “Wait. Let me see something.”
I point to the letters carved into my chest. The V is the easiest letter to read. Next to it, in the same size script, is the letter R.
I studied them when Victor left me but didn’t understand. The V is obvious: V for Victor. But the second letter. . . “R? What’s your last name?”
“I have none,” he says. “Not anymore. I figured I could take yours.”
I drop my hand, my arm muscles suddenly too weak to hold it up. “Romano?”
“Or Regis. Your mother was a Regis, correct?”
