Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Zane
I ’m sitting in the living room, processing everything, as Scottie finishes recounting her harrowing ordeal. When Tucker called us to say he found her alone and sitting in that café crying, I had never felt so powerless.
That he got to her while the sun was shining is just another reason for him to be part of our relationship.
He can protect her in times and places we can’t.
Thankfully, this time, it all turned out. She’s brought my father home, and she was unharmed.
Physically, at least.
“I’ve never heard of Agostino Vasari.” My voice is steady, but inside, a storm rages. I can’t shake the dread creeping up my spine.
Scottie shifts in her seat next to me, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears. She looks shattered, the kind of broken that may never mend.
I hate it. “Whoever the fuck this man is, family or not, he will pay for hurting you like this.”
She meets my gaze. “What if all of this might be my fault? What if our fathers are dead because of what happened in New York and Russ targeted Toronto to get revenge?”
Jack sits forward in the chair opposite us, his expression grave. “I don’t think so, kid.”
She looks at him, hope igniting in her gaze. “No? Why not?”
“Because whether he was Russ Fusco in New York or Lazarus Kaza in Toronto or Agostino Vasari in Italy, that man wouldn’t have been building his ventures here in the new world if he wasn’t intending to make a play for Toronto. No. He was in North America because claiming the Vasari seat of power has been his play all along.”
Tucker is sitting on her other side and sets his massive palm on her thigh. “If he was already circling, learning about Francesco’s life, he may have targeted you from the moment you left the compound.”
She swallows. “Do you think?”
He dips his chin. “And if he carries the Vasari family gift, perhaps that’s why Francesco wasn’t able to ease your mind afterward.”
Her eyes widen. “Do you think that’s why I couldn’t fight him, and I couldn’t break free of his influence?”
“I’d bet on it,” Jack says, frowning. “After we got you back, Francesco spent hours sitting at your bedside, fighting to unravel the turmoil in your mind. I’d never seen him so frustrated. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t access your trauma and take it from you.”
Scottie lets out a sob. “I thought it was me. The flashes of the twisted things I remember…the pain I caused…I thought he unleashed something dark and evil in me.”
Tucker growls. “No, beautiful. There is nothing dark or evil in you. That was all him.”
That makes me sick. “If that’s true, then everything you went through in New York and ever since is because of your connection to my father and, by extension, me.”
I rub a hand over my face, struggling against the weight of that reality. This is just another example of how loving me has hurt her. That truth gnaws at me—it claws at my insides like a ravenous beast hungry for flesh. “I’m so fucking sorry, Scots.”
She leans to the side and rests her head on my shoulder while lacing our fingers. “Don’t be. If it’s not my fault, it’s not your fault either. Whether he’s Lazarus or Russ or Agostino, this is on him. What we need to know now is how to stop him. Because I don’t care what he says, he’ll never be the Vasari king, and I’ll never be bound to him.”
“No, you won’t.” Huntley turns from where he’s been standing rigid, staring into the fire burning in the hearth. He runs a hand through his tousled hair. “He’ll die before that ever happens.”
I study them—my people—my family forged through blood and loyalty in this chaotic world. “And as long as he doesn’t have the dagger, there’s no way for him to stake his claim.”
“And you’re sure the dagger is secure?” Jack asks.
“I was. But with the new information that the man behind the coup is a Vasari true-blood that has been watching us for years, I’m not as sure.”
“He doesn’t have it,” Scottie assures me. “While he was bragging, he mentioned he still needs the dagger.”
“Well, that’s good,” Tucker says.
“If we can believe anything that comes out of his mouth,” Huntley says.
“We should get it,” Scottie says.
I shake my head. “No. That could play into his hands. If he’s watching us?—”
“—Which we have to assume he is,” Huntley says.
Agreed. “—then us going to reclaim the dagger from where my father and I hid it only exposes it to the risk of being taken.”
Jack nods. “All right. Huntley and I will use our contacts within the community to gather intel on Agostino’s operations here in Toronto. If we know what assets he has, we’ll have a better chance of understanding our foe.”
Huntley reaches for his phone, sitting on the coffee table. “Zane, is there anyone in the old country you can speak to who might know about your long-lost cousin?”
I shake my head. “I never knew there were other living Vasaris. Who would I know who might know more about them?”
“What about a historian or a lineage scholar or something?” Scottie suggests.
I lean forward on my elbows and exhale. “I’ll work on that.”
Jack gestures to the rosewood box on the fireplace hearth. “In the meantime, we need to lay your fathers to rest.”
“What can I do?” Tucker asks.
Scottie takes his hand. “You can help me organize their service today. We’ll notify the clan that Francesco’s head has been recovered and that at nightfall, we will honor them. I’ll have Justine prepare the hub for a service and have Warin gather the volunteers he needs to prepare a feast. Does that sound all right? Do you want to plan it?”
I shake my head. “I leave it to you. And thank you for doing it.”
Scottie sends me a soft smile. “It’ll keep me busy and give me something to focus on other than the threat of your creepy cousin coming for us.”
I lean sideways and press my lips against her temple. “He’ll never get his hands on you again, Scots, I swear. Now that we know who is gunning for us and why, he’ll never succeed.”
My vow hangs in the air while uncertainty lingers heavily around us—Agostino Vasari is coming for everything we hold dear. Well, he better be ready for one hell of a fight.
My phone vibrates against the coffee table, and I reach for it, recognizing the international number. “Ashikaga-san.”
“ Konbanwa, Young Vasari.” Ashikaga Hikotaka is the Fondatori King from Kyoto and my father’s longest-standing friend and ally. I’ve always thought his voice carries the weight of centuries and the tension in his greeting tonight sets me on alert. “It is good to hear your voice, my friend.”
“And yours as well.” No matter how anxious I am to know why he’s calling, it would be rude to ask. “I have good news.”
“Wonderful. I could use some.”
“My father’s head has been recovered, and we will lay him and Bran McCullough to rest later tonight in a clan celebration.”
“That is good news. Please wish them both a safe journey from me, during their last rites.”
“I will, thank you.”
I let the conversation fall quiet, giving him the opportunity to broach the reason for his call.
“I apologize for the timing, young king. However, we have a situation requiring your immediate attention.”
I close my eyes and draw a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever storm is about to hit our shores. “Which is?”
“Agostino Vasari is contesting your right to rule Toronto and has approached the Fondatori rulers.”
My grip tightens on the phone. “That is a familial matter. I am the sitting king, and I hold the dagger. Forgive my bluntness, but what business is it of the other Fondatori rulers?”
“None, but there are those who are concerned.”
“Concerned about what?”
“Concerned that a king of your age and inexperience holds the reign of such a powerful seat. If you were to be overtaken, as Heinrich Rainier was in Berlin, it is feared that the power of the Fondatori would stand in question. If that were to happen, other upstarts with thoughts of grandeur might think to challenge us.”
I close my eyes and fight to remain calm. “By the laws of the Fondatori, I rule the Toronto seat of power. I survived the siege on our clan, and I retain the Diamond Dagger. That should raise my reign above question.”
“Agreed. No one is taking that from you. The other Fondatori rulers have simply requested a meeting to discuss it. You have been called by your peers to Seafarer’s Island. You must come and defend your throne.”
“And will Agostino be there?”
“He will.”
I resist the urge to throw my phone and start pacing. “He’s manipulating you all to force my hand. He wants me to bring the Diamond Dagger so he can take it.”
“Perhaps.” Ashikaga’s tone remains measured. “But you cannot prove yourself king simply because Francesco hid the dagger somewhere secure. The other families must see you stand and fight for what is yours.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. “With all due respect, Ashikaga-san, my father hasn’t even been lain to rest, and this cousin—a man I never knew existed—is responsible for killing him. Why does he get more consideration than me or my father?”
“I understand your frustration and I agree, but my hands are tied. I was tasked with arranging the meeting, and it is my duty to comply. Given that your father’s ceremony is tonight, I will set the meeting for three nights from now. Come to the Seafarer’s Sanctuary. Bring the dagger. Stand as the king you were born to be.”
Scottie watches me with concern as I pace. Tucker and Huntley have gone silent, listening.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you will lose face in the eyes of the other rulers, and Agostino’s age, experience, and claims of being better suited will gain traction.”
I close my eyes, knowing I’m being maneuvered but seeing no way around it. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. Your father would be proud.”
The line goes dead, and I lower the phone, meeting the worried gazes of my family. “My reign is being contested. My presence is required at a meeting of the Fondatori rulers.”
Huntley’s gaze narrows. “Agostino is making his move to get the dagger.”
“I know, but I have no choice but to comply.”