“The blood oath was still in place when you banished me,” Dante went on. “We never negotiated new terms, so the bond between our families still stood, up until last nightwhen I fulfilled it. I have done nothing wrong in the eyes of ancient vampire law.”
“You’ve doneeverythingwrong,” Marcello snarled. “You are no longer a viable heir. On the other hand, Gabriel?—”
“Is the perfect heir,” Dante agreed, bowing his head to his brother. “And if you’d sworn a new oath with Enzo, naming Gabriel instead, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. But you didn’t. You and Giovanni tried to slip your new arrangement past everyone, including the other Pentarchs.”
“I was not aware that an older, unfulfilled blood oath existed. We do have laws about such things, which is why oaths are not taken lightly.” Severin pinned Marcello with a stern stare.
Emilia’s dark eyes gleamed. “Not lightly at all. Now that you’ve brought this to our attention, I remember the day you swore your oath, Dante.”
“The old Rite I invoked last night,” Dante continued, “wasn’t an act of war, as my father claims. I simply kept my word and fulfilled my sworn blood oath. Eldest DiRavello, eldest Dominico. Two ancient families united by blood. And know this—I will protect my wife with my life. Fromanythreat.” His ice-cold gaze swung around the entire table, his message clear…
Fuck with Emberline and face my wrath.
I shivered, right down to my toes.
“The only cracks are in my father’s pride, not in your power structure.”
Rocco leaned back, those old eyes sharp, searching for some way to leverage this to his advantage. “He’s not wrong,” he said to no one in particular.
Marcello rounded on his old friend. “He should beexecuted and the marriage annulled. You’re going to let him lie his way out of this?”
“I am willing to let your son speak his piece.” Rocco raised his bushy eyebrows. “And I would like to hear more about how you and Giovanni thought to trick us.”
“I am interested in hearing his side as well.” Severin tapped a finger on the table. “Swearing a new oath without honoring the old is against our code of honor. Something the Don should know.”
A muscle jumped in Marcello’s cheek at the rebuke, and I smiled, trying to pin down this feeling coursing through me in great, choking waves.
Hope.
I’d walked in here thinking neither of us would be walking out and now... I wanted to throw my head back and laugh. Somehow, Dante had beaten the craftiest vampires in Venice, and he’d done it by telling the truth.
I’d only been to the council a handful of times to advise Enzo on financial matters, but I knew this. Dante already had the support of Severin and Emilia, and Luca would vote on our behalf.
He’d already won.
Emilia’s nails drummed against the arm of her chair. “Even if we grant your marriage stabilizes the Dynasty rather than the opposite, Marcello declared youIl Bando di Sangue—cast out. You were forbidden to ever set foot on Dynasty soil again. How do you answer?”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “Our law dictates that a Don can discipline his heir. Dynasty law does not say he can throw his son into the pits to die. I am no criminal. I am the blooded eldest Dominico, and my father used The Fossa as a means to execute me without getting his hands dirty.”
It was hard, keeping my face expressionless, not turningto glare daggers at Marcello. Sending your own son to the pits was monstrous.
Severin Draconi lifted his battle-rough hand.
“The Brotherhood has a… vested interest in the regulation of pit fighting. Some of our best soldiers come out of those stockades,” he announced, nothing but judgment on his face as he stared at Marcello. “Let it be known our records show that The Fossa has… enjoyed considerable Dominico patronage over these past five decades. Payments exceeding the annual budget of this council.”
Dante reached into his coat, and the entire room tensed. “Loyalty in Blood, Honor in Strength.” His rough voice rang clearly. “That has been the Dominico motto ever since Salvatore established our empire. A motto I have lived by, and the sole reason I walked away all those years ago.”
“I knew I would have trouble convincing you, so… I brought receipts,” he explained. “Signed transfers. Certified correspondence. Lists of prisoners sold and traded. Some of them very young, all of them marked as enemies by my sire, Marcello Dominco. Some of them under your protection, Emilia.”
Her gaze sharpened. “You are accusing our Don of condemning our own bloodlines without Council approval?” Her tone was flat. “Without trial?”
“Not accusing.” Dante’s gaze landed on his father. “Proving.” His finger tapped the black seal on one of the documents. “Recognize the crest?”
The Dominico wolf, the wax seal from the ring on Marcello’s own finger.
Marcello’s power flared like an exploding star, filling the room with simmering rage, slamming against the wards woven into the chamber walls. In the next heartbeat, the airreeked of ozone and iron and a trace of fear, a smoky haze lingering in the air.
“You stole private records,” Marcello’s voice was deadly. “I shall add theft to your many crimes.”
