Chapter 58 #2
The sun burned into the DiRavello family crest above the main archway, the double doors covered by shimmering wards.
I dematerialized at the edge of the canal, in plain sight because I wanted plenty of witnesses, then took the wide marble stairs three at a time, a spurned husband in a blinding rage, driven by temper, a haze of pagan magic bending the air around me.
There was nothing of the once-civilized Dominico heir left now, only the brutish fighter from the pits, held together with nothing but hate and scar tissue, better with his fists than words. Anger rode me hard, the kind of fury that might make a weaker male do something stupid.
Two of Giovanni’s personal guards moved to block my path, sloppily yanking out their swords in haste, neither of them overly anxious to get in my way, fucking amateurs. “Signore Dominico,” one stammered, eyes bulging.
I didn’t slow.
“You’re going to want to move out of my way,” I warned, my voice velvet over steel. Their weapons kissed my chest, and I pushed forward, smiling—baring my fangs as their blades cut through fabric and into flesh. “Now.”
Steel cut deeper, blood scent filled the air, and I smiled. Both males flinched. Dropped their swords. I shoved them out of the way, my palms hitting the doors with enough force to crack the wood.
The massive doors flew open, the crash booming down the marble-lined entrance hall, rattling crystal and paintings along the walls. A guard at the far end rushed forward, hand on his gun, skidding to a halt when he saw my face.
“Giovanni!” I roared, voice echoing under the painted ceiling. “Where the fuck is she?”
A prim butler stumbled out of a side doorway, face blanching. “Signore Dominico, please, you cannot simply—”
“Where,” I repeated, in a tone that made seasoned killers rethink their life choices, “is my fucking wife? Where is Emberline Dominico?”
“I… she is not…”
“Let’s try this, then.” I prowled toward the sweating, hapless male, shrinking down inside his tuxedo. “Where is Signore Giovanni? Perhaps he’ll confess where he’s hidden his niece?”
“In his study, my lord, with Master Luca,” the butler babbled. “If you’ll just allow me to announce your arrival…”
I shoved him aside.
I’d walked this hall many times. As a guest. As one of Enzo’s confidants. Tonight, I walked down that corridor like a brewing storm.
Servants flattened themselves against the walls as I swept past. A pair of DiRavello soldiers appeared, then flinched, stepping aside without being told.
My aura flooded the space, dark and crackling, every instinct screaming at me to tear this place apart stone by stone until the basement where he’d tried to drown her was open to the night.
Not yet, I reminded myself. This is only a performance. Make it count.
The wood of the doors to Enzo’s study splintered under the force of my entrance, smacking into the walls on either side. The destruction did little to feed this rage inside me, which was beginning to spiral out of control.
Candles guttered. Papers fluttered.
Giovanni sat behind his desk, Luca frozen in an armchair by the fire. A decanter of something expensive glowed between them in thick, hand-cut crystal. Both males jolted to their feet.
“Dante,” Luca began, confusion pinching his expression. “What in the…”
“Where is my fucking wife?” I snarled, looking between them, silence slamming into the room as they stared at me in shock.
Giovanni’s gaze went from confusion to calculating, but I saw the faint tightening at the corners of his mouth, the quick flash in his eyes. Suspicion, anger… fear.
“I beg your pardon?” He acted affronted, his smile as smooth as oil. “Your wife? Have you lost my niece, Dante?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.” I stepped into the room, wanting to kill him, just for that snide remark alone. “Now, where is Emberline? I’m sure you remember her. The female you swore by blood and oath to the Dominico family.”
Luca’s brows snapped together, worry clouding his gaze. “She’s with you, surely. Where else would my sister be?”
I turned my full regard on him, tamping down some of my raw fury. “She was fulfilling her duty,” I bit out. “Until I came back home last night to find her gone. Now it’s morning, and she hasn’t returned, and I would like to know where your uncle is hiding her.”
“Gone…?” Luca stuttered.
“Disappeared,” I savored each syllable like broken glass. “No signs of a struggle. Vanished from a house protected by wards only my blood and my magic can breach.” I let that fact hang between us, heavy and dangerous. “Unless, of course, someone with equally powerful magic called her home.”
Giovanni’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers curled on the desk.
“There must be some mistake,” he purred smoothly. “Perhaps she left of her own accord. Young women do foolish things when angry. You two did not exactly… well, you did steal her away from your own brother.” His tone was tart. “Perhaps starting there would be a better use of your time.”
You fucker. You drowned her in your own basement, and now you have the fucking audacity to send me after my own brother.
“Who the fuck do you think I was with last night?” I hissed. “My brother is not involved in this, but… where were you last night, Giovanni? Can you vouch for yourself, or were you helping my wife sneak away?”
“My uncle only left the palazzo for a short time, then he returned,” Luca explained, then flushed.
“I’m sorry, Uncle, but I heard you moving around last night.
” The boy turned back to me. “But uncle was here most of the night, and I haven’t seen Emberline, not since we brought her trunks to the house. ”
Giovanni stared at Luca like he meant to rip him apart, and I wanted to shake some sense into the boy. The fool thought he was vouching for his uncle when all he was doing was digging his own grave.
“There. As Luca so helpfully pointed out, I was here last night. Perhaps you two had a fight? I heard… the party at Rocco’s may have caused her some distress?” He sounded so fucking smug as he added, “Perhaps she needed some… space?”
My laugh was sharp and ugly, bouncing off bookshelves and polished wood.
“You think this is a lovers’ quarrel?” I threatened softly. “We are talking about a blood oath witnessed by the Dynasty and sealed by a DiSangue priest. Emberline took that responsibility seriously. But I wonder if you did?”
I leaned both hands on his desk, close enough to smell the faint tang of the canal still clinging to him. Close enough to imagine smashing his head into the carved wood until the grain ran red.
“My brother tells me this marriage was your idea,” I went on, voice low and lethal.
“A solution to a problem you manufactured in the first place. Ember became your pawn and a way to buy Luca’s seat at the council table.
Now, I have to ask myself… are you simply creating another situation to serve your own purposes? ”
Giovanni’s jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, the mask slipped, malice sparking in his eyes, and I watched his fingers flex, the movement of a male imagining them around my throat.
And as bad as I felt about throwing Luca into the mix—the poor kid looked like he was about to vomit—he needed to wake up and face the truth. His uncle was a fucking snake.
I couldn’t save him; he was going to have to learn to do that himself.
“A runaway bride,” I accused, straightening, “and a husband still caught in a net of your making. What sort of game are you playing, Giovanni?” I leaned over the desk, forcing the older male back. “Or maybe…” I paused.
“Maybe you’re working with my father again. He and two of his guards were gone all night, according to my brother. Maybe he was here, having one of these cozy little meetings in your study as you two cooked up yet another power-hungry scheme between yourselves.”
Giovanni’s eyes flashed, then he dipped his head with a theatrical sigh. “Dante. You have my word. I have not spoken to Emberline since the wedding, I swear. If she left your house, it was of her own volition.” He tipped his head. “Perhaps your father—”
“Careful what you say next,” I warned.
He inclined his head again, a serpent’s mimicry of contrition. “I merely suggest that in a city swarming with enemies, your suspicion in me might be… misplaced.”
“Where is my fucking wife, Giovanni? My father is many things, but he’s not a kidnapper, nor would he bother with Ember. She’s not hiding his secrets. And my guess is… she knows too many of yours.”
I snapped my mouth closed before I revealed too much, letting the silence stretch, feeling the weighty silence in the hall outside as DiRavello guards and servants strained to catch every word.
One of Gabriel’s many suggestions—if I made the accusation loudly enough, it would not stay in this room for long.
His eyes cooled. “Emberline is my niece. I raised that child. I care for her deeply.”
And you fucking killed her to save yourself. I bared my fangs in something that wasn’t a smile, some of my control slipping through my fingers. “Careful. You almost sound like you believe that.”
Luca scrubbed a hand over his face, exasperation edging into fear. “Dante, this is madness. Ember is… My sister is headstrong. Reckless. She could have left for any number of reasons. You can’t storm in and accuse my uncle of breaking a blood oath just because she’s been gone for a few hours.”
“You’re right,” I agreed softly. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Luca blinked. “Then—”
“I’m accusing him,”—I never took my gaze off Giovanni—“because he’s hiding something. And because if anything—anything at all—happens to my wife, the Dynasty will hold someone responsible for her disappearance. And who better to point the finger at than her brute of a husband?”
A flicker of unease crossed Luca’s features as he realized that was a likely outcome.
“I will not become a patsy to one of your schemes. And Marcello’s absence last night is very… coincidental. He’s my next stop.”
Giovanni’s venomous stare was unblinking. “Are you threatening me, boy?”
“I’m merely telling you I want my wife back.
” I let out more of my darkness, letting them both see the monster lurking beneath my skin.
“Bring my wife back to me by nightfall…” I leaned in until we were almost nose to nose, my voice a rasp of pure menace.
“Or I’ll be back, and I won’t be nearly as reasonable as I am now. ”
For a second, the air between us vibrated with violence. I wanted him dead so badly, I could taste it. One wrong word, one flinch, and I would break every promise I’d made to Gabriel and Nico and tear Giovanni’s throat out right there.
But he didn’t flinch. He only smiled—a snake-like stretch of thin lips over pointed teeth, as if he knew something I didn’t.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, curling his lip.
Behind me, Luca cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll look, too. We all want Emberline found and returned safely.”
“By nightfall,” I repeated, letting my gaze drift deliberately around the study—over ledgers, maps, and the round glass globe on the corner of the desk.
“One more thing.” I paused on the threshold. I let my voice carry, so the guards and servants heard every word. “When you see her, tell my wife that she is required to honor our wedding vows. She doesn’t get to run when things become inconvenient.”
It was a calculated barb, sharp and petty and perfectly on-brand for the arrogant male I was pretending to be. A humiliated Dominico heir, intent on protecting his ego. Let them think I cared more about pride than justice.
“I’ll be sure to pass along the message,” Giovanni lied silkily, his gaze flickering over me, searching for any sign of weakness. “When next I see her.”
We stared at each other for a beat longer, then I inclined my head, a parody of courtesy. “See that you do.”
I turned on my heel and stalked out, boots ringing on the marble. The guards snapped to attention as I passed, shoulders tense, eyes averted. Whispers followed me down the corridor, quick and sharp.
Emberline. Missing. Blood oath. Truce is at risk.
Good. Let the story spread. Let the entire Dynasty chew on it, pick the rumors apart, wonder what it all meant.
Muddy the waters even more for Giovanni.
Outside, the morning air hit me like a slap—cold, wet, and stinking faintly of diesel fuel.
I didn’t dematerialize immediately. I couldn’t, I was too angry.
Somewhere beneath my feet lay the flooded basement where he’d tried to drown my wife.
“Soon,” I promised—to the monster clawing to escape my chest and the female I loved too much for words. “I swear to you, preta, this isn’t over. This was just the opening move.”
My fingers curled at my sides, and I gathered my magic, preparing to transport myself home…
A shockwave struck me out of nowhere, an invisible impact, powerful enough to throw me onto my back, knock the air from my lungs. A rush of sound roared past a second later, followed by the acrid scent of explosives.
Over the red-tiled roofs, a towering plume of black smoke rose above the city.
Right where my house used to be.