“I am notwalking away,” he spoke to me like I was a child. “I am going where we can speak privately about the mess you have just made.”
I laughed, and the sound scraped up my raw throat. “The messImade? This wasn’t my plan, the Right, the challenge, any of it. And I’m certainly not the one who volunteered my own niece as a burnt offering.”
You planned that debacle? Luca shifted beside me, tension rippling through him.You planned something this momentous, and you didn’t even tell me, Em?His thoughts brushed against mine, sharp and frantic, and I flushed with shame.
I’ll explain later, Luca,I shot back as I followed my uncle.I was trying to keep you out of trouble.
We walked together down the hall, neither of us looking at the other, neither of us giving the slightest hint we were speaking mind to mind.
It was the one secret we’d kept from Uncle Gio, the one secret we hid from the world. Twins were rare in the vampire world, rarer still for both to survive to adulthood, and—according to Enzo—our ability to communicate mentally came from that bond.
You have no idea what I’ve gone through tonight, Em. No idea at all.
I’m sorry, Luca, but things got complicated, fast, and now… I’m in a bit of a mess.
We passed portraits of long-dead DiRavellos lining the corridor, their painted eyes watching with vague disapproval and tight-lipped smiles. My father’s face stared down from the largest canvas, his hand resting on a globe, his expression somewhere between stern and amused. Enzo had always liked that painting; he said he looked like a benevolent tyrant.
Giovanni pushed open the study door, and the smell—leather scented, rarified air, rich with cigar smoke—hit me like a physical blow.
My father’s study had always been the heart of the palazzo—a war room disguised as a gentleman’s office, and now, it struck me how alike this room was to Marcello’s. Dark shelves crowded with ledgers and tomes, maps pinned to cork boards, sagging red string drawing lines between ports and drop-off points. The desk overlooked the canal, stacks of documents still neatly waiting where he’d left them.
This was where he’d taught me to read shipping manifests and decode diplomatic letters. Where he’d smiled and told me,You see the chessboard better than anyone, Stella. One day, this will all be yours.
Exceptone dayhad died with Enzo because, without putting his wishes in writing, Luca would step into my father’s shoes.
Vampires, the quintessential procrastinators.
I didn’t mind my brother inheriting my father’s crown. In fact, part of me celebrated my twin getting everything he deserved, though I worried how he’d handle the responsibility. What rankled was how Giovanni had walked into this room—my father’s room—as if he owned it.
How he’d traded me away, like a pawn he was willing to sacrifice in pursuit of something far more valuable.
“Sit down,” he barked.
“Go fuck yourself,” I replied.
His gaze sharpened, just for a heartbeat. “Then stand, if you prefer.” He shrugged, taking my father’s seat behind the desk. “Your stubbornness will not change what we must discuss.”
Luca slipped past me and sank into one of the leather armchairs. He looked wrung out, the lines of his face carved deep by worry. There were spots of blood on his expensive suit, and more spotted the cuff of his shirt. Blood had been spilled tonight… and for what? The glory of the Dynasty?
Come on,my brother urged, his words edged with exhaustion.See what he has to say.
I crossed to the other chair and sat, but only because I wanted a better angle to watch Giovanni’s face as he lied, twisting the truth to suit himself, like always, because somewhere, beneath his slippery words, I would find the truth.
Because he’d taught me where to look.
He closed his eyes, and a secondary layer of wards shimmered along the walls and over the bookshelves, invisible to mortal eyes but bright to ours. Soundproofing.
“You used me,” I spat, the second the protections locked into place.
His brows lifted slightly. “I saved you.”
The casual lie stole my breath for a second, anger stuttering into disbelief. “You think you’ll play the hero? Now, after everything? We had a plan, Uncle Gio. Invoke the Right of Arbitration, then strike under the guise of justice. We’d all get what we want, revenge and power. The power, by the way, would be yours, the vengeance mine.”
I spoke mostly for Luca’s benefit, trying to catch him up.
“So, we did,” he agreed mildly, moving to the liquor cabinet, opening it with an easy familiarity that made my skin crawl. He poured himself a small measure of brandy—also my father’s—before answering. “You went to the ceremony planning to put a knife in the Don’s heart. Do you think that’s not using someone? You would have sacrificed us all for a single, satisfying kill.”
“It would have been more than satisfying,” I didn’t look at him. “It would have been justice.”
