Chapter 3
EMBERLINE
Inever got a good look at the trespassing vampire, but he left a scent trail putrid enough for me to track all the way back to the city. Barefoot because there was no way I could move fast in those ridiculous heels.
Gods, he stank. A rotting smell, as if something had decayed.
Which meant he was sick, perhaps some sort of blood disease.
Not that I cared since he’d be dead before morning.
Killing him would be a kindness, I decided, as I tracked him through the narrow alleys, gagging the entire time.
I compulsively checked my one and only weapon, scolding myself for not being better prepared, for wearing this stupid dress, for installing that new security system, which had failed at the worst possible moment.
All my failings followed me deeper into the city, the tight, nauseated churning in my stomach growing worse by the minute.
Because as I dematerialized into the Castello district, and a familiar building rose up before me, I knew exactly where my target was headed. If I was right, this not only confirmed my own suspicions, but opened up a proverbial barrel of worms.
The trespasser worked for the Dominico family.
My father had only one enemy. One.
Enzo and Marcello Dominico had a rivalry that spanned centuries, filled with betrayals and murders and a shit ton of fuckery I didn’t even want to know about.
The Sala del Giuramento was the Dominico family headquarters, a sprawling complex bigger than the Doge’s Palace, filled with luxury apartments, meeting halls, the Shadow Council chamber, and—I’d heard—a system of dungeons that stretched an entire city block, though that was probably an exaggeration.
Or not.
Sure enough, the reeking scent trail of impending death stopped at a small side door of the Sala del Giuramento.
I looked both ways down the narrow alleyway before flattening my palm to the doorframe and repeating a simple unsealing charm that dropped the wards around the door long enough for me to slip through.
Thank you, Enzo.
Since I’d been inside this imposing structure a time or two for masquerade balls, trials of judgment, and the occasional debauched blood ceremony, I knew exactly where I was headed. I stopped to yank my knife out of the thigh holster before picking up the pace.
Don Marcello Dominico had inherited the Dynasty from his father Salvatore six hundred years ago, after proving himself a worthy successor. Cold, calculating, and cruel in ways only immortals could be, Marcello’s word was law, his judgment final.
Marcello and Enzo had both outlasted coups, betrayals, Napoleon’s invading forces, and the changing tides of mortal society by adapting the empire's operations—from smuggling routes in the 1600s to modern cybercrime and international weapons trafficking networks.
Time had made my father introspective.
Marcello had grown bitter and cagier.
He would have given the order to kill my father.
I even knew who had—metaphorically—wielded the knife.
Gabriel Dominico, the chosen son of Don Marcello, heir to the D’Immortali Dynasty, the stone-hearted male destined to inherit the entire Venetian mafia upon his sire’s demise.
The Dominico Empire was our deadliest bloodline, known for its brutality and efficiency.
Their bloodline had ruled our Dynasty for a thousand years.
For my entire lifetime, Gabriel had been the judge, jury, and executioner of this Dynasty.
They called him Il Lupo Nero—The Black Wolf.
Renowned for his arrogance as well as his cold brutality, Gabriel Dominico was born to rule, as their grandsire had before them.
He was untouchable, by all accounts, and not someone I should ever want as an enemy.
Well, too fucking late for that.
“Because here I am, sneaking around in the dark, contemplating murder in their own godsdamn palazzo,” I muttered, inching down a corridor that reeked strongly enough of death, my eyes watered.
“Sneaking around and plotting murder while trespassing on Dominico territory is usually a good way to get yourself executed,” a deep male voice behind me warned.
I turned, smoothly disappearing my blade up into my lacy sleeve, facing the very last person I’d expected to see tonight.
Gabriel Dominico tipped his head to the side, his ice-blue gaze picking me down to the bone as he scanned me head to toe, frowning at my bare feet before pinching his lips together, looking like a disapproving aunt.
No, scratch that.
Like an unbelievably handsome, spoiled Roman god carved from a perfect block of marble by a sculptor having the best day of his life.
Or the dark prince of an enchanted castle, with his sharp, shadowy jawline and piercing blue eyes.
“Cat got your tongue, piccola, or are you simply working out a convincing lie?”
“I’m trying to figure out why the Don’s son is skulking around a dark hallway in the middle of the night.”
“Funny, that was the exact question I was about to ask you.”
“Well, I asked first.” One sniff told me this was not my trespasser, but he, most certainly, had a hand in killing my father. My fingers brushed the hilt of my hidden weapon, debating if this was my best and only chance to have my revenge.
There was nobody around. I could gut him, leave him here, and be home within moments. I even had an alibi. Two hundred vampires would swear I was on our island, mourning Enzo like a good daughter.
Gabriel looked fast, but I was fast, too.
And this fucking family owed me.
They owed me their blood. He owed me a father.
And I was going to collect.
“Staring at me with all that death in your eyes,”—Gabriel's lips quirked—“seems you didn’t come here to request an official meeting with the Don to negotiate a new contract.” The darkness in the hallway deepened, the air turning frosty as his magic slid over me like ice.
“I came… I followed someone here. A trespasser.”
“You’re the DiRavello girl?” The intensity of the recognition sparking in those eyes had me shivering. “Tonight was your father’s Nightfire, was it not? And you came here to… what? Accuse our family of killing him?”
Recognition turned to something else. Something ugly. He barked out a laugh.
“A sheltered, spoiled princess with a death wish. Go home, piccola. The Dominicos had nothing to do with Enzo’s death. We have bigger problems on our plates.”
Bigger problems than my father’s murder? Little girl? This fucker.
“Don’t pretend you know anything about me.” My fangs dropped down as I measured the distance between my knife and his throat.
Totally doable.
“And you were pretty quick with that denial,”—I cocked my eyebrow—“almost like you had an alibi prepared. If I wasn’t such a sheltered princess, I’d call that suspicious.”
Gabriel didn’t know he’d stolen my entire future by killing Enzo, and not just because he’d deprived me of my father, my only living parent, my role model ever since I was born.
Enzo had trained me to take over the family business.
Me, not Luca.
But now, because of ancient, bullshit vampire law, my brother would inherit the DiRavello holdings. Leaving me open for all sorts of fun things, like arranged marriages and forced alliances, or even worse, fading into the background and becoming completely unnecessary.
“Watch your tone, girl.”
“Watch yours, stronzo,” I hissed right back. “Want to explain why you were spying on us? If you’re so innocent, then why did I track your spy all the way from our island to this very building?”
“You don’t have the first clue what you’re talking about.” He sounded so casually dismissive, my temper exploded.
“Oh, please, tell me what I’m talking about then, or better yet, tell me what I’m thinking since I’m sure in your world of male privilege, females can’t form a single coherent idea of their own.”
He just looked me up and down, in that scathing way that arrogant males used when they were so fucking sure they had the upper hand, his brilliant blue eyes hard as stones as he beckoned someone from down the hall.
A black-suited Dominico guard rushed toward us, pulling at his collar. “Yes, sire?”
“Escort our guest to the front doors. Make sure she gets back to Cannaregio safely and without incident.”
Dismissed. Like I was a fucking nuisance. “My father is dead. And the killer will answer for what they did.” I lifted my chin. “No matter who they are. Because, unlike you, I take my family honor seriously.”
Those eyes raked me over one final time, disgust burning in them like blue fire.
“Go home, piccola, and take your little knife with you.”