Valentin stood in front of him, one hand on Dante’s chest, speaking in low, urgent tones. Trying to be a barrier between Dante and whatever violence he was planning.
I wasn’t sure it would be enough.
I scanned the ballroom for the queen but didn’t spot her. She had to still be here somewhere. And the king—where was he?
At the bar, Rocco had reached Ethan. He was ordering, his back to the room, oblivious—or pretending to be.
Dante took a step forward.
Valentin blocked his path, feet planted, refusing to budge. The two of them squared off, tension crackling between them like heat lightning before a storm.
Was this going to be like this all night? Every time Rocco moved, would Dante try to go after him?
I understood the rage. I did.
I remembered Dante’s face that night. He’d been in chains, guards holding him back, forced to watch every single blow.
Unable to break free.
Unable to stop it.
Unable to save her.
The helplessness in his eyes had been worse than the screaming.
That kind of wound didn’t heal. It just scarred over, ugly and thick, waiting for something to tear it open again.
And tonight, that something was standing at the bar ordering drinks.
Rose flashed me a curious look. “How did you end up here with Rocco? He’s been so... distant.”
I sighed. “He showed up at The Black Rose Café and asked me to the party.” I hesitated, tracing a finger along the edge of the table. Saying it out loud made it sound even more reckless than it had felt in the moment. “Before you ask—he wasn’t invited. He’s representing someone.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Dimitri picked him up in Angelo Santi’s limo. So this is about Angelo.”
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded, bracing myself for the lecture. For Rose to tell me I was an idiot for saying yes—for letting Rocco back in after everything he’d done. Part of me wanted her to say it. At least then someone would be thinking clearly, because I sure as hell wasn’t.
Rose set the glass down and shook her head. “Rocco’s working for Angelo Santi now? Is he crazy?”
“I don’t know.” I winced. “He just said that Angelo asked him to represent him.”
Rose frowned, her brow furrowing. “That’s strange. Why not ask Dimitri or Enzo?”
“Good question.”
She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “Be careful, Selena. Angelo is extremely dangerous and doesn’t do anything without a reason.”
I glanced toward the bar where Rocco was still waiting for our drinks. “But what if Rocco didn’t have a choice?”
Beside me, Rose was quiet for a moment. “My guess is he didn’t.”
Rocco collected our drinks and headed back toward us. Rose stiffened beside me, her eyes darting across the room to where Dante stood with Katona. But Dante had his back turned—for now.
Rocco set my glass of Chosen Blood in front of me and turned to Rose.
“Rose.” He smiled—the same smile that always made me blush—and inclined his head. “You look lovely tonight. Where’s Valentin?”
