“I’m not going anywhere.”
Something in his expression cracked—just for a second—and I caught a glimpse of the man beneath all the guilt and bravado. The man who needed someone to stay. Who’d never believed anyone would.
He pressed his lips to my forehead. Held them there. Said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
Another knock broke the moment. Rocco exhaled against my forehead, and I felt the shift in him—the softness retreating, the walls sliding back into place like armor being strapped on piece by piece.
He clasped my hand. “Come on.”
He led me out of our room—our sanctuary, the only place in the world where we’d been just Rocco and Selena, no demons, no wars, no death warrants—and back into cold reality.
The living room had been transformed. Rose knelt in the center of the floor surrounded by a circle of symbols drawn in what looked like blood and ash. Candles flickered at five points around her, their flames burning an unnatural blue. The ancient book lay open beside her, its pages rippling despite the still air. The smell hit me first—sulfur and something older, something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Valentin leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. His gaze locked onto Rocco the moment we stepped into the room, flicking briefly to our joined hands before snapping back to Rocco’s face.
He gave him a hard look. “Better get your head in the game, Palazzo.”
“Shut up,” Rocco said, but there was no real bite in it. His hand tightened around mine.
But I wasn’t listening to the testosterone standoff anymore and turned to look at Rose.
She raised her eyes from the circle, her blue eyes meeting mine, and the expression on her face stopped me in my tracks. Not fear—she didn’t scare easily. But gravity. What she was about to do pressed into every line of her face.
Oh, shit.This was really going to happen.
She put ingredients into a ceramic bowl—herbs, what looked like bone dust, and something dark and viscous that I didn’t want to identify. She had drawn a pentagram on the hardwood floor with red chalk. The lines were precise, practiced. She’d done this before.
I swallowed the fear bubbling up my throat. The room felt colder somehow. Darker. Like the shadows themselves knew what was coming.
She glanced up at us. “Everything is set for the spell. Be prepared for anything.” Her blue eyes held mine. “Are you ready?”
“No,” I admitted. “Not at all.”
Rocco clasped my trembling hand. His grip was strong, steady—the only thing keeping me anchored. “Stay strong.”
Easy for him to say. I saw what Balthazar had done to Angelo Santi at the palace. He hadn’t paid attention to me, and I never wanted him to. And now he was going to be focused not only on me, but all of us.
Valentin stood beside Rose, his jaw tight, his body coiled like he was ready to fight. Rose pulled out a lighter and lit the ingredients. They sizzled and hissed, sending up a plume of acrid smoke that made my eyes water.
The flames turned black.
Rose raised her hands over the bowl, her voice dropping into something ancient and commanding.
“Balthazar,daemon antiquus, te voco.”
The candle flames surged upward, doubling in height, their light turning from gold to an unnatural blue.
“Per sanguinem et ignem, per umbram et os...”
The temperature plummeted. My breath came out in visible puffs. Rocco’s grip on my hand tightened until it was almost painful.
“Audi me et transi velum.”
The flames in the bowl shot toward the ceiling, and the pentagram on the floor began to glow blood-red.
I stopped breathing.
