Was that a threat?
Was he threatening to expose me or my family, or did he know something I didn’t?
“I’m not afraid of the truth,” I lifted my chin, but before Marcello could respond, there were three soft raps at the door, followed by the scrape of the latch.
Nico angled himself in front of the Don. Severin moved to Marcello’s side.
Such good little soldiers.
So fucking loyal.
A steward slipped in, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched his knees. “Don,” he quavered, voice thin with nerves. “Forgive the interruption. Giovanni DiRavello requests an audience. He… insists his presence is required.”
Of course he does.I couldn’t stop resentment from clogging my throat. He disappeared right when I was at my most vulnerable, and now he’s returned. Why?
Something sour curled in my stomach.
As if he felt the same way, Marcello’s mouth thinned. “Show him in.”
15
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The steward stepped aside, and my uncle glided into the room.
Everyone shifted into defensive mode, expressions hardening as mental protections and shields slid into place, my uncle’s reputation preceding his beatific smile.
Giovanni withered slightly beneath the weight of two Dominico stares—one dark, one vivid blue—in his plain brown habit. His hands were folded, sleeves hiding the long, pale fingers that had taught me a hundred ways to kill a bigger, stronger male.
“Don Marcello,” Giovanni bowed, his voice trembling enough to sound sincere. “Forgive my intrusion. The banquet is… well, no place for me. I feared for my niece and her foolish, impulsive actions…”
With an impatient flick of his fingers, Marcello cut him off.
Good thing because if he spoke another word about how foolish I was acting, I’d vault over this table and wrap my hands around his throat.
Who was he to call me impulsive, when every move I’d made today was part ofhiscarefully choreographed plan? Why had he abandoned me when I’d needed his support?
I stayed right where I was because across the room, Gabriel Dominico watched me like a wolf, and after all his baseless insinuations that my uncle was behind Enzo’smurder… I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of exposing any friction between us.
“You have not yet fulfilled your obligation to the Compact,” the Don’s sharp command rang off the walls. “You left the chamber before giving your blood. That oversight will be corrected.Now.”
Giovanni’s gaze darted to the Basin, and for just an instant, I saw the shift—from deference to sharp, ugly annoyance. Then his face smoothed over, a mask of pious regret.
“Of course, Don,” he murmured. “I meant no disrespect. In my haste, I… forgot myself.”
“Convenient,” Nico muttered under his breath, and Gabriel coughed into his hand. The two were friends, I remembered hearing. Close since childhood, though I’d never pictured one of the Draconi as having actual…friends.
More like… targets they hadn’t yet interrogated and tortured.
“Quickly,” Marcello ordered, gesturing to the far side of the table. “Stand before the Basin. Swear your loyalty as your niece and nephew have sworn.”
Giovanni moved to comply, the never-ending humility act wrapped around him like another layer to his costume. He stopped before the bowl, close enough I smelled the hint of woodsy incense clinging to his skin as he drew a small knife from the rope at his waist, the blade plain and sharp. Not gold, like Marcello’s. Not ceremonial.
Steel. Practical. Efficient.
“Your blood,” Marcello prompted with a hint of urgency.
I wasn’t imagining the tension rising around me like waves on the sea, Severin and Nico’s shoulders held in a tight line, Gabriel’s eyes set like glittering stones in hisimpassive face.As if they were waiting for my uncle to fail this test.
