Chapter 10
EMBERLINE
Nico’s huge shoulders blocked the view of me slipping into the study, the wards prickling over my skin, confirming I was from the right family.
They’d been keyed to the DiRavello bloodline centuries ago.
How many times had I opened this door when father was inside, just to ask him some childish question?
The memory made my eyes burn. He’d always been annoyed by the interruption, yet always let me stay, explaining his latest business deal or how best to leverage our paltry influence in a Dynasty where we were the weakest link.
Silence greeted me.
The room was as I remembered—shelves of books lining the walls, a large desk cluttered with ledgers and neat stacks of paper; my uncle’s secrets, ripe for the picking. And instead of cigar smoke, the air smelled of cedar and beeswax and old parchment.
Of lies.
My father’s portrait above the fireplace was gone, replaced by my uncle with his beatific smile, a somber Luca by his side, the smell of fresh oil paint still pungent and sharp. A pang went through me, sudden enough, the burning in my eyes became a tear, sliding down over my cheek.
My uncle was erasing my father, a little at a time.
He’d killed Enzo, then me, and now he was turning my brother into some bastardized version of himself. Dante wasn’t the only one I had to save. Somehow, I had to look out for Luca, too.
If I’d known he was corrupting Luca, I wouldn’t have stayed dead.
I moved quickly, feet soundless on the carpet. I took sixty precious seconds to leaf through the piles of paperwork on the desk, not because I expected to find anything, but… people got careless when they were overconfident.
I went to the bookshelf, tipped out the black, bound book on the second shelf down, and the secret door slid open, revealing the safe Enzo had shown me when I was three and explained how the locking mechanism worked when I was twelve.
Up close, the seam around the door was barely visible—a narrow rectangle cut into the wood, just big enough for a strongbox. I traced the edges with my fingertips until I found the tiny indentation. My fingers were bigger now, but…
“Chiave nera,” I whispered, feeling a bit of spellwork seep into the crack, the wood shivering, a silvery glow illuminating the outline. Behind me, a quiet, metallic click had me freezing on instinct.
The door to the study opened, and the chaos of the party invaded the quiet sanctuary where my father’s memory still clung to everything.
I froze, hand resting on the bookshelf, desperately trying to look like I was inspecting the spine titles, not cracking a hidden safe.
Gods, don’t let it be Giovanni, I thought fiercely. Please, not—
“Excuse me, Signorina,” a familiar voice demanded, and some part of me relaxed. “What are you doing in here? This room is restricted.”
Luca.
Slowly, I straightened, turning to face him, pasting a nonthreatening, warm smile on my pretend face as I prepared to talk my way out of what was clearly a dicey situation.
Not that I would let that stop me.
Outlined by the open doorway, Luca’s brows were drawn tight together, the din of the party drifting in around him. His gaze flicked from me to the books, to the faint outline of the safe.
Clever boy.
My mind raced.
“I’m so sorry,” I summoned up an embarrassed laugh. “I’ve never been in this big of a house. I think I’ve gotten a bit lost.”
He didn’t smile.
“This is my uncle’s private study,” he snapped, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, thank the gods. “Guests are banned from this section of the house.”
“Then perhaps you should put up a warning,” I replied before I could stop myself. “Or a more obvious ward. The current one barely pinched when I walked through. I thought I might have imagined this being off limits.”
“And you weren’t deterred by the hundred or so soldiers posted outside?” With narrowed eyes, he leaned against the shut door, effectively trapping me.
I shrugged. “There wasn’t a soldier in sight when I came in here.”
“I seem to remember you being from Florence.” He tilted his head to the side, lips pinched in a flat line. “Most out-of-towners wouldn’t get past our wards. In fact,”—he stepped closer—“you should have been knocked out cold.”
Idiot, I scolded myself.
“Ah. Right,” I said, toying with the ends of my hair like I was flustered. “I… studied a bit with my aunt Emilia when I was younger. Basic spells. Enough to keep stray ghosts out of the cellar, that sort of thing.”
“Ghosts,” he repeated flatly.
“That was a joke,” I said weakly when his aura sharpened, the air between us tightening. Where was Nico? This would be the perfect time for a rescue.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Isabella Rossi,” I said smoothly. “My father did business with yours some years ago, and Emilia asked me to come tonight to pay my respects for your sister. Look, I don’t do well in crowds.
I slipped away to find a quiet room and thought this might be a safe place to hide for a few hours.
Parties…” I shrugged, letting my shoulders slump in defeat. “They’re just… a lot.”
Luca searched my face, lingering for a second too long on my eyes, my mouth, the line of my jaw. Inside my head, pressure built, as if he was trying to worm his way in. My clever brother, trying to get past my mental shields.
The sensation stopped.
Luca looked away, jaw clenching.
“My sister used to say that,” he said quietly. “That parties were ‘a lot’. This room was where she hid away, back when it belonged to our father.” Then his tone, his expression hardened. “But this is my Uncle Giovanni’s now, and it’s dangerous for you to be in here.”
My heart stuttered at his desolation, at how brightly his eyes shone.
My uncle could try all he wanted to turn my brother into some facsimile of himself, but Luca was good, just like our father. It was up to me to make sure he remained uncorruptible.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wishing I could hug him, wishing the world wasn’t such a cruel, fucked-up place. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I should go back to the party.”
“She…” His throat bobbed. “Emberline died in an explosion. With Dante, her… husband. It was an accident, they said, the explosion. But I don’t see how…” His lips slammed shut, that face I knew as well as my own twisted in pain.
Every word was edged with the kind of anguish I’d never wanted my brother to feel. Gods, how I wanted to tell Luca everything. But with one careless mistake, our entire ruse would be revealed.
And Luca would be in danger.
There was no question in my mind that Giovanni would kill my brother if he knew I was alive. No, ignorance kept him safe, and safe he’d stay.
“I heard about that,” I said softly. “Such a tragic accident. I’m so sorry you lost her.” I hesitated, and because I was a shit sister, I asked, “Were you two close?”
“Twins,” he admitted. “Rare for vampires, but we had a close bond, especially after our mother died. For most of our lives, it was just the two of us. We learned to trust each other, to rely on each other for everything.”
Feeling like even more of a shit sister, I nodded, at a loss for words.
I couldn’t lie to Luca, and the truth was too dangerous, so I stayed quiet, watching Luca move around the desk, fingers trailing briefly over the wood where father’s hands had rested countless times. He didn’t even glance at the safe, focused on the cluttered desk.
“I came here to be alone, too,” he admitted, staring up at the new painting with distaste. “My uncle likes his speeches. And the attention. I don’t care for either. So, I understand, hiding out from that crowd. They would devour you if given the chance.”
Silence stretched between us.
“She was difficult,” he said eventually, a rueful smile ghosting across his lips. “Stubborn. Reckless. She never did what she was supposed to. Always breaking the rules, but she was good at pretending. She hated this life, just like I did, but she’s free of it now. I’m stuck forever.”
“You’re not stuck.” I clasped my hands behind my back so Luca wouldn’t notice them shaking. “Make this life whatever you want. Being a Pentarch gives you power, power you can use however you wish. Enough to create the world you want.”
“Clearly, you’ve never met my uncle.” He gave a bitter laugh, his face crumpling.
He caught himself, rubbing his jaw, his voice rough.
“Power is nothing I’ve ever wanted for myself.
It’s a poison, and I can already feel it ruining me from the inside out.
Soon enough, I’ll be just like the rest of them. ”
Something inside me cracked cleanly down the middle.
I wanted to rip off this glamour, grab Luca by the shoulders, and tell him I was right here, that I wasn’t dead after all, that I was planning to gut our uncle like a fish and set us free.
But right now, my brother needed hope.
“I didn’t know your sister,” I said quietly. “But I’ve heard enough about her to be sure of one thing.”
He looked at me, eyes bright.
“She would be proud of you,” I said forcefully.
“Of the male you’re becoming. Holding your family empire together, staying strong.
Not letting anyone see you break. You aren’t corrupted at all; you’re exhausted from pretending to be one of them.
You aren’t ruined; you are finding your own way, and that takes time. ”
“How can you say that?” he whispered. “You don’t even know me.”
“I’ve seen plenty of males who let power rot them from the inside. You aren’t them. You are trying not to become them, with every fiber of your being. Keep playing their games. Keep your eyes open, stay true to your heart, and trust your judgment, Luca, even if that means walking away.”
“You don’t just walk away.” His throat worked. “Not from this life. Not from Giovanni. Not once he’s sunk his claws in you.”
“That’s not true,” I countered. “There is always a way out.”
He studied me for a long moment, his grief turning to something more calculating.
“Who are you? Why are you telling me this?”
“Just someone who’s been used as a pawn and seen plenty of bad things in her life. Enough to know you can come out on the other side. You’ll be okay, Signore DiRavello, you just have to believe in yourself hard enough.”
He nodded slowly.
“Would you mind if I stayed?” I asked softly. “Just for a few minutes? Long enough to pull myself together before I have to face them all?”
“I should escort you back to the party.” He tipped his head, considering me. “If Giovanni finds you in here, he’d use my negligence as an excuse to have me flayed. But…” My brother rubbed his temples. “I understand not wanting to go out there, more than you’ll ever know. A few minutes, no longer.”
“Thank you. You’re a good male.”
“Not anymore,” he muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t be here.”
“Trust me, I won’t,” I muttered, glancing at the faint glowing outline of the safe.
Exactly nine minutes later, sweat running down my spine, I closed the door behind me and reactivated the wards, one name etched into my head. A name I held onto with every piece of my being.
Tazroum.
I’d left everything untouched inside the safe—except for the token I’d stolen for Emilia. But my uncle’s ledger noted regular payments—exorbitant amounts—paid out once a week like clockwork, ever since the day Dante disappeared.
Nothing but a town noted beside the amount… Tazroum.
I’d heard my father mention that name once. Only once, in a conversation I’d overheard between him and an elderly council member from a rival dynasty long ago.
There was an even larger amount paid out on the day of the explosion, with the same town listed, and another note, neatly scribed in my uncle’s precise handwriting—for services rendered.
I threaded my way through the crowd, and in passing, I slipped a small white key carved from bone into Emilia’s hand, a gift to my father from the High Priestess of an American coven, who claimed it unlocked the door to the Underworld.
“Knowing your taste, I think this is right up your alley,” I whispered, “Thank you for helping me tonight.”
“Two more hours and your glamour will be gone,” she cautioned. “Be safely hidden by then, and as far as your gift…” Her fangs flashed when she looked down at the bone key. “I know just what to do with this.”
Nico watched me leave from the far side of the glittering room. I stepped into the cool night air, Emilia’s glamour still wrapped around me, and turned my back on my own remembrance ceremony and dematerialized.
I hopscotched across the city until I was sure I hadn’t been followed, then slipped back into the empty safehouse, sitting down in front of Gabriel’s laptop, only to be stumped by a request for a password.
“Soon,” I whispered, slowly typing in a series of letters, only for the damn screen to say ‘Invalid username or password’.
Damn. Stymied again by technology.
“We’re getting close, Dante. Hang on, we’ll be there soon.”