And yet… she’d marked a trespasser at her father’s Nightfire ceremony, tracked him all the way through the city—alone, barefoot—then debated whether or not to stick a knife in me.
Notthe actions of a pampered princess.
“The son will take over, as is proper, but the girl… the girl is the one you should watch out for.” Marcello fixed his bleary eyes on me. “Giovanni is very dangerous, Gabriel. Do not underestimate him because of the ridiculous monk’s robe he wears. He is the most dangerous threat we face inla Famiglia,and…” The drumming stopped abruptly, his eyes clearing as he came back to the present.
“It’s convenient Enzo died so close to the swearing of theCompact,” Marcello abruptly changed the subject. “According to my sources, he died alone. No sign of a struggle, and… no sign the killer has been identified. Rumors will spread, Gabriel, and rumors take on a life of their own if they are not crushed.”
More than just rumors since the daughter was here earlier, looking ready to stab one of us. I was definitely putting extra guards on my father for the foreseeable future.
“You are handling this situation,mio figlio?”
Marcello was old, but better males than I had underestimated him. I might be Don in all but name, but there was no one who understood this city and the inner workings of the Dynasty better than my sire.
Not a drop of blood fell to the cobblestones of this city without my father hearing the splash.
Even now, I’d trust Marcello’s intuition over anyone else’s.
“I am.” I dipped my head. “I thought the timing suspect as well, and I have people canvassing the city, questioning every Dynasty member. Discreetly, of course,” I added, as his dark eyes settled on me. “Nico Draconi is heading up the investigation. I’ll have this city locked down in the next two days. We will be ready.”
“Good,” Marcello rubbed the back of his head. “Nico is a good soldier. He must find the assassin, bring them here, and you must question them. I want to know why they killed Enzo, how they got into his palazzo, and most of all… what they hoped to gain by killing an old male who was no threat.”
He climbed to his feet, his face showing the strain. “There hasn’t been an assassination on our territory in two hundred years, Gabriel. Every family must swear the Compact, or we will have war. This world is bad enoughwith the cellphones, the internet, and the satellites.” He waved a veined hand in the air. “I wish that we could once again rule through might and fear, but this is a new world. We must exercise discretion.”
“This world offers advantages our old one did not, Father.” I sighed, knowing this ongoing argument would never convince my father that things were better than the olden days. “There are cameras everywhere in the city. Nico is using technology to locate this assassin, and soon, we will have our answers.”
I didn’t miss the way Marcello hung onto the chair for an extra second for support before leaving nor the strange scent he left behind after he was gone.
Then it hit me.That was what death smelled like.
I realized he’d never finished telling me about Emberline DiRavello or why it mattered in the least that she was under her uncle’s tutelage.
But I had more pressing problems to deal with than a spoiled mafia princess with misplaced suspicions.
Problems currently handcuffed to a chair in a soundproofed room at the heart of this very building.
5
GABRIEL
This room had no windows—just damp blocks fitted together centuries ago. One buzzing lightbulb hung over a battered table covered in small, round burns. A single iron ring was set into each wall, and our prisoner’s eyes flicked from one to the next, then back to me, his face as pale as bleached bones.
Looking, perhaps, for obvious torture devices.
But there was only one he needed to worry about.
Nico Draconi leaned against the far wall, brawny arms crossed over his chest, his stony expression in direct opposition to the sweating, nervous vampire cuffed to the chair in the center of the room.
I rolled my neck, feeling the delicious pop as hours of tension released, some of the ache draining out of my shoulders. One glance told me the prisoner knew nothing. He was a drone, not a player, but sometimes drones contained secrets, too. I just had to find the right motivation to unlock them.
I took off my tailored suit coat, folded and draped it carefully over the back of the second chair, then unbuttoned and rolled up my shirt sleeves.
Unhurried.
As if I had all the time in the world.
Why waste my own precious energy when I could letthis fucker’s nerves collapse into a pile of nervous chatter?Which, judging by his reaction, should be in no time at all.
The male tied to the chair—Marco Trevisan—couldn’t stay still to save his life, knees bouncing, eyes skating all over. Door. Me. Floor. Nico. Those iron rings. Like he might find an exit we didn’t know about.
