Giana had told him she hated him, and Rodrigo accepted it as the price of keeping her alive. He had set her free, hoping… what? That the hate would fade? That she'd return to him willingly? That she'd see his cage for the sanctuary he'd always intended it to be?
Now she was hurt because of his absence.
Would she look at him, standing amidst the smoldering ruins of everything he'd destroyed in her name, and feel gratitude? Or would she see only another jailer, another monster, holding her captive in a fortress built on the bones of her enemies and the ashes of her freedom?
Rodrigo slowly turned his head back toward the screens. The infirmary feed showed only the still form under the sheets, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The vital signs monitor glowed steadily, a constellation of green assurance.
He reached out, not for the untouched whiskey, but for his laptop. His finger hovered over the trackpad. He could pull up the external perimeter feeds. Check the guard rotations. Review the threat assessments Iz and Leo were undoubtedly compiling on the Falcones and all the other old families. He needed todosomething.
Rodrigo still didn't answer Dario's question. The silence stretched, only by the hum of machines and the unspoken, terrifying truth.
Gratitude was a flower that rarely bloomed in the scorched earth left behind by monsters, and Rodrigo knew he could endure Giana's hate.
As long as she was alive, what did he care?
7
The atmosphere in the Colleoni villa's conference room two days later would have been tense if it weren't for the chatter of the loud mercenaries around the table.
Sunlight filtered through the windows, revealing the beautiful day outside in the gardens. The pretty view did nothing to ease Rodrigo's tension in his position at the head of the long wooden table they sat around.
The large TV at the other end was filled with satellite images of various properties in Sicily and Naples, dossiers on the Falcones and other families ready and compiled, and schematics of fortified compounds that looked more like medieval castles than modern residences.
Leo was on his laptop, ready to bring up anything Rodrigo might ask for. Dante was beside him, their elbows touching. He had refused to let Leo go back to Italy without him, because he knew better than anyone that the Colleoni Villa was full of bad memories for Leo.
For all of us, Rodrigo thought grimly.
Now that he had taken over the family, he had begun redecorating. The first thing he did was take down all the photosand portraits of Gabriella after their father had died. She had changed then, and not for the better.
The only pictures of her that remained were the ones that held good memories for all three brothers. The walls now had a lot of empty spaces.
Further down the table, Kon leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxed lethality. His sharp eyes missed nothing, a faint smile playing on his lips as he idly stroked the tips of Athena's blond ponytail beside him.
Athena twirled a knife in one hand, her gaze fixed on the TV, as if she were mentally planning every way she would attack the compounds. It was a look Leo had once described as "episode adjacent." Rodrigo had never seen her go into an episode, but not much unnerved Leo, and he said it was one of the most chilling things he had ever witnessed.
According to Athena, she had come to Italy to pick out her new sword from Gabriella's collection, but his brother insisted it was really because Kon and Athena didn't want to miss out on any of the excitement. Whatever their motivation, Rodrigo was grateful for the extra help.
"I was worried about being bored, but this looks like it might liven my life up again," she declared.
"Am I boring you already,balim?" Kon asked, a wry grin on his face.
Athena grinned back. "Don't start. You know as well as I do that reading books and stroking your artefacts wouldn't have kept you amused forever."
"All depends if you were going to stroke my artefacts too?—"
"Keep it in your pants, Zalam," Dario snorted. He sat to Rodrigo's right, lounging in the chair with a carefully cultivated arrogance and an easygoing attitude. The tension in his jaw was a familiar tell, like it was for all the Colleoni men, and Rodrigo knew the source of it sat opposite him.
Frederica Alesci, a.k.a.Fred, sat next to Kon, one booted foot propped on the table, ignoring the expensive wood. She was half Greek, half Italian, and was built like a Spartan warrior, with sculpted biceps and olive skin. She wore old black jeans and a plain red T-shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a braid that emphasized her high cheekbones and pale hazel eyes. She glanced dismissively over the maps before grinning at Dario. The knot in his brother's jaw flexed again.
"Are you two going to behave, or is there going to be a problem?" Rodrigo asked, looking between them.
Kon had called Frederica simply as 'an extra pair of guns you won't regret having.' Rodrigo trusted Kon's judgment, but what Kon hadn't known was that Dario and Frederica had crossed paths before, and it had ended poorly…for Dario.
"Yeah, I want to know what's going on here too," Athena said, looking between them. "You guys have a bad date or something?"
Dario snorted. "She wishes."
"Don't mind him. He's just a sore loser," Frederica replied, her smile growing wider. "He was hired as a bodyguard for someone two years ago. I was hired to kill them. Guess who got paid, and who didn't?"
