Ember’s eyes narrowed. “Promises, promises.”
“Sometimes, secrets are meant to keep people safe, Emberline,” I counseled. “But I owe you the entire truth, as difficult as this will be. Just know I only meant to shield you, as long as I could. Nico is here because… he is a big part of that truth.”
I poured her a mug of coffee and set it in front of her. Her fingers brushed mine for half a second—and some of the fight in her eyes softened. Then she wrapped both hands around the mug and glared at me over the rim as if it was a shield between us.
“All right, I have coffee,” she muttered. “Now, somebody had better start talking.”
The kitchen suddenly felt more constrictive than my old prison cell. I leaned back against the chipped counter, needing something solid to brace me up in order to meet my wife’s condemning glare head-on.
But godsdamn, she looked good in my shirt.
“You know Marcello controls everyone’s future, including yours. But what you don’t know is how he became Don in the first place.”
“He was never supposed to be Don,” Nico cut in. “He didn’t have the temperament.”
She looked between us, frown deepening. “That’s not true. Marcello wasalwaysSalvatore’s chosen heir. The Shadow Council certified his claim. The Blood Compact confirmed his worthiness, and he’s been in power ever since. I’ve heard this story a hundred times from Uncle Gio.”
“That story was built on a lie.” I swallowed. “A fabricated history that still stands today because there are only two Dynasty members alive who remember what happened back then.”
“Three, if you count Emilia,” Nico corrected. “Even though she’d never admit to her age.”
Silence settled over the room. Outside, the city continued on, the distant lap of water against stone, the faint cry of gulls. I picked up the coffee pot and topped off my wife’s cup.
“My grandsire, Salvatore, had two sons. Lorenzo, his blooded son and heir, who he trained since birth to inherit his title. And Marcello, his illegitimate bastard.”
“I… didn’t know Marcello was illegitimate,” Ember admitted, looking slightly stunned. “As far as Lorenzo, I heard he died young.” She squinted, like she was trying to remember. “An accident of some kind.”
“He did die young,” I agreed. “But the myth built around his death… thatbetrayalis the foundation Marcello has built his entire empire on. An empire that would crumble if the truth ever came out. Our neat and tidy world would get very messy.”
“I don’t think neat and tidy means the same thing to you that it does to me,” Nico muttered, staring down into his empty coffee mug. I sighed, then emptied the dredges into his cup.
“Lorenzo was the eldest by a hundred years,” I explained. Emberline had to hear this part to understand why we were risking everything to expose the ancient past.
“He was stronger than even Salvatore. Smarter. More even-tempered. Studied at all the best schools, knew all the right people. The obvious heir. Marcello… was a bastard born to one of his many mistresses, who grew up lowborn and uneducated. Useful for his cunning. Ruthless in certain situations. But he was considered too volatile, too vindictive to ever make a good Don.”
Ember’s fingers tightened around her mug. “What kind of accident did Lorenzo have?”
I looked at Nico.
“You want the pretty version?” he asked. “The one that was duly recorded in our official books? Or the one where Marcello took his half-brother hunting on the mainland and dragged Lorenzo’s ravaged body back with him with over a hundred stab wounds?”
Her breath hitched.
“An attack was the official story,” I volunteered. “Marcello claimed a roaming band ofI Ceneratoricornered them and killed Lorenzo. He died a hero, by all accounts.”
“Marcello didn’t have a mark on him,” Nico added. “There were no reports of vampire hunters in the area at that time, no other attacks, no witnesses to corroborate his story. The Shadow Council wanted to open a formal investigation, but all calls for an inquiry were shut down.”
“Salvatore suspected foul play,” I added, to answer her obvious question. “He wasn’t blind to his bastard son’s ambitions.”
“Yet he still named Marcello heir.” Ember shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why choose Marcello if he couldn’t be trusted? Who would have blocked an investigationwhen the circumstances were so… suspicious?” She looked between us, brow furrowed. “What am I missing?”
“Salvatore’s consigliere, Giovanni DiRavello, suggested that Marcello might make a proper Don, after all, despite his many… faults.”
“That makes no sense.” Ember gripped her coffee. “The way my uncle tells the story, he wascheatedout of that title and has resented Marcello ever since.”
“Have you ever heard the saying ‘Wise men rule from the shadows?’” At her faint nod, I explained, “Giovanni had no real interest in the responsibilities of the throne. He’s always been more suited to pulling strings from behind the curtains and using his network of spies and secrets to influence power from a safe position.”
I let that truth hang between us, knowing it would take Ember time to see her uncle in this new light. She still had a soft spot for the soulless bastard.
