Chapter 36
EMBERLINE
Marcello’s lips thinned as he glared at Dante, his veined hands trembling where he gripped the edge of the table. “Dominico heir? You were stripped of that honor when I declared you—”
“Stripping me of my title doesn’t negate a sworn blood oath.
” Dante spoke so patiently, a dark red flush crept up Marcello’s neck.
“I was still bound by the oath, as were you. I am simply fulfilling my part of the bargain. If Enzo was alive, he would agree that the terms of the oath were fulfilled. But he’s not alive, is he? ”
Nico leaned down and whispered something into Severin’s ear, his mouth twitching.
What’s his game? If he’s not careful, you’ll end up a widow. Luca shifted in his chair. Not that I don’t enjoy watching Marcello squirm, mind you.
I don’t know, but Dante has a plan, Luca.
At least, I hoped he had a plan. Marcello’s color didn’t look good at all. Maybe this trial would be the death of him instead of Dante, and I could consider my mission accomplished.
You can only hope, sister. Luca’s chuckle echoed inside my head.
“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 night when I fulfilled it. I have done nothing wrong in the eyes of ancient vampire law.”
“You’ve done everything wrong,” 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.
From any threat.” 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 be executed 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 you Il 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 turning to 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 air reeked 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.”
“I’ll take that to mean these are genuine.” Emilia picked up one of the pages, and Vincenzo leaned in, dark eyes narrowing as he scanned the writing. “This is…” She turned to Marcello, nothing on her face except condemnation.
“This is a distraction,” Marcello snapped. “We are not here to litigate old business dealings. We are here to discuss my son’s—”
“Your son is directly relevant to these accusations.” Of all people, Uncle Gio cut in smoothly.
“If Dante Dominico was declared Il Bando di Sangue, then condemned to the pits on your order, Don Marcello, then the question becomes not whether his banishment should stand, but whether your punishment was lawful. And if it was not, then you are the one who should be standing before this council for judgment.”
The blood froze in my veins. Only I would recognize that creamy pleasure in Gio’s voice.
Only I would recognize that somehow… this whole scene had all the hallmarks of one of my uncle’s schemes.
Gabriel stayed quiet, his eyes drifting from the pile of papers to Dante.
Then to his father.
He didn’t look like the strong, unassailable heir; he looked… hollowed out, smudges under his cerulean eyes, hands in his pockets. I suspected because he had them clenched into fists to keep from strangling his brother. I knew the feeling.
Vampires were an immortal, patient race, playing games that lasted centuries.
I’d expected Dante’s campaign to undermine his father to last for months…
not minutes. But with a few carefully chosen words and a pile of stolen documents—because let’s be honest, they were—Marcello’s entire legacy was about to fall.
“You want to punish someone for endangering the D’Immortali Dynasty?” Dante challenged. “Punish the male who would sell any of you out in a heartbeat, like he did his own son. Punish the male who sent innocents into the pits out of malice, not one who refused to die in them.”
Dante lifted his head, gaze unflinching.
He looked noble, with his regal profile and swept-back hair, like a knight facing down a corrupt king. I hated how the sight stirred my heart, how hope took flight, thundering against my ribs.
“I survived the hole you shoved me into.” A muscle in his jaw flexed.
“I came back because you don’t get to throw away your own blood and promises and still expect the Dynasty you built on those lies to stand.
You swore a vow to Enzo DiRavello. I upheld that oath.
If anyone’s honor is on trial here, it’s not mine. ”
The quiet that followed was the dangerous kind, with everyone weighing options and deciding which side of the argument they wanted to land on. And from the way they stared at Marcello… that side wasn’t his.
Emilia DiSangue shuffled the stack of papers with exaggerated care. “Council law is… complicated,” she admitted. “But your banishment was never formally recognized by this Council.”
“Agreed,” Severin said, steel sliding into his tone.
“The moment you banished a Dynastic heir, this became our matter, and the Council was not convened. You treated your son like a disposable prisoner when the law is very clear—family heads and heirs are guaranteed due process from a committee of their peers.”
“This is a farce,” Marcello hissed, spittle peppering the table. “He trespasses on my lands, forces a bond, and you praise him for finding a loophole?” He shoved to his feet, “I am the Don. I have ruled the D’Immortali Dynasty for almost five centuries. My word is law. This… traitor is banished.”
But his words rang hollow, and everyone knew it, even Gabriel, who closed his eyes, his face pale.