Luca smiled slowly. “Then we’ll know not to set a place at the table.”
Rory pushed his seat back, tossed his napkin neatly beside his empty dessert plate, and stood. Only he and Luca had enjoyed the creamy concoction. He gave Luca a respectful nod. “Thank you for dinner, sir.”
Luca raised an eyebrow, amused. “Not joining us for the festivities?”
Rory’s mouth curved into a slight smile. “Nikolai’s my brother, my boss, and the only man I take orders from. You don’t need to question where I stand.”
Luca seemed satisfied. “Good man.”
Rory’s gaze swept the room once. “I’ll hold down the fort and make sure you’re not disturbed.”
He turned without another word, heading for the main hall.
With that, Luca rose slowly and stepped away from the table. “Gentlemen,” he said smoothly, “shall we?”
He led the way, and the rest of us followed in silence. We moved through the enormous home in a loose line. He led us down hallways and through large gathering rooms with heavy furniture and marble floors, then down a wide stairwell. The temperature dropped as we descended to the lower level.
The Xyst men—who were usually relaxed, borderline cocky—had gone quiet, tense with anticipation.
At the bottom, we followed Luca down another hallway, our footsteps echoing across the polished hardwood. Then he turned the corner, opened a thick double door, and stepped inside.
The space, caught between eras, was a private library by design and a gaming room by feel, but tonight it served a far older function. This was a place of reckoning. A place of ritual.
Baroque arches framed the ceiling, their carved cherry wood stained a deep, dark hue. Ornate gold sconces cast flickering shadows along the paneled walls. The air carried the distinct scent of incense. It was a fragrance of reverence. Of death and devotion.
Luca stopped a few paces from the door and turned. We came to a halt in front of him.
At the center of the room, a few feet away from us, stood a long table styled like a Catholic altar. White linen, perfectly smooth, was draped perfectly across its surface—an illusion of purity. Atop the cloth sat a stack of saint cards, a brass candle lighter, several thick candles that were already burning low, and a ceremonial blade—its handle carved from bone, its edge gleaming in the light.
This wasn’t a room for business.
It was a room for blood.
Luca ran his thumb across his lip and scrutinized the little group. Lucian and Lachlan stood side by side, Gabriel and Julian behind them. “You’ll all take the oath in due time. But before we speak of loyalty, you should know what Nikolai and I know.”
The Xyst men shifted uneasily.
Luca glanced at me and gave a nod. I stepped around the men, turned to face them, steepled my fingers, and bowed my head—gathering my thoughts before looking up.
“Before we go any further, I want you to know that we’ve done our homework,” I said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “Dug through your backgrounds and records. Talked to the right people. Found things even you might not know about yourselves. This wasn’t about finding secrets—it was about knowing who we’re bringing into the fold.”
Luca stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with me, then gestured toward the brothers. “Let’s start with the Irish ones.”
Lucian’s jaw clenched. Lachlan crossed his arms, a wary expression on his face.
“Have you two ever thought about your surname?” Luca asked. The brothers glanced at each other, confused.
“There are names that carry weight in this world,” Luca continued. “Yours is one of them. Byrnes is more than a surname—it’s a bloodline with roots deep in the Irish underworld, a family name that has a long, blood-soaked legacy in both Ireland and Boston. A name your parents tried to bury.” He let those words hang in the air for a moment.
“But it’s time you learn the truth. Your parents worked like hell to walk away from all of it. They moved you as boys to a forgotten town in the Irish countryside. Gave up everything—the wealth, the power, their birthright. They took up sheepherding, yarn making, embracing the quiet life. They wanted nothing to do with the underworld. Didn’t want you two anywhere near the violence.”
Lucian looked stricken. “My mother never said—”
“They thought that if they raised you simply,” I said, “far from the cities, far from the family, they could break the chain of violence they’d lived under their entire lives. And yet here you are—right where fate wanted you.”
Luca smirked. “Your uncle’s name is Jack Byrnes. Boston Irish. Owns half the Seaport District and all the unions north of here. He’s the real deal—and he’s been watching you since you came to the States.”
Lachlan muttered a curse.
