Chapter 11 #2
He descended the steps onto the ring with five guards flanking him, and I couldn’t help but smile. The Overseer met him halfway across the ring, and they both stopped in front of me, close enough to smell the cedar and beeswax, close enough to see the way the Overseer’s breastplate gleamed.
Like the bastard spent hours polishing it.
“I have to admit,” Giovanni said softly, as if we were sharing a private joke, “I expected you to have broken by now. Over four weeks without feeding. Beaten to a pulp every day. I’d be impressed if your endurance wasn’t so inconvenient.”
This was the fucker who had killed my wife. He’d crushed her skull and left her to drown. My heart beat against my ribs like a war drum.
“You’re paying dearly to keep me alive,” I rasped. “How is that going for you? I’d think you’d be pleased you were getting your money’s worth.”
Giovanni’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, I’m pleased enough.” He gestured around us. “Look at you. Back where you belong. In the dirt and the reeking filth. This is all you will ever know for the rest of your miserable life.”
“Did you spend time practicing that speech in front of a mirror?” I cocked my eyebrow, and blood poured down the side of my face. “Word of advice… it needs work.”
His jaw worked, making him look more pathetic than pious.
I tipped my head, even though the entire world spun in circles.
“Tell me one thing. Where is my fucking wife?” I hissed. “What did you do to her?”
Keeping up the act was foolish, but I wanted to hear him admit he was the villain, so I could cradle the admission close, use it to fuel my rage.
His smile… I’d seen a lot of evil fuckers in my life, but that smile sent a chill straight into my soul.
“My dear niece, you mean?” he studied me, trying to see past the blood and sand and… yes, filth. “She died in the explosion, of course. A terrible loss for the bloodline. My nephew is still mourning.”
A ripple of doubt went through me, even though Giovanni was a liar to his very core.
What if he was telling the truth? I’d convinced myself Emberline survived, but what if I was wrong?
For a second, the world wouldn’t stop spinning, and then…
“Of course, that is the story I spun for the council since they tend to frown on murder. Just last night, in fact, I held a grand ball in her honor. Who knew her death would come in so handy? An opportunity to gather all my new subjects in one place and begin what your father could never accomplish. Impose my will over all three dynasties.”
“I don’t give a shit about your schemes. Where the fuck is my wife?” I hissed, jaw clenched hard enough to break teeth.
With a gleeful smile, Giovanni leaned in, his voice dropping. “I drowned her in my basement.”
Even though I knew the truth, the words were like bullets, ripping holes in my heart, the world disappearing into the roar of blood in my ears.
“You’re lying,” I breathed. “Emberline’s still alive. I know it.”
“I found her poking around in the palazzo. She’d become a liability.” He spoke as if he was talking about the weather, and I forced myself to stay right where I was and not wrap my hands around his pasty throat and squeeze.
“That’s a lie.” I snapped. “We had an agreement to make the best of our marriage, and…”
Better to play the fool husband than give this fucker a clue that there was a bigger conspiracy afoot.
One that would hopefully bring him down.
“Gods, you really are a mindless brute.” He shook his head. “Let me put this plainly. I sent Emberline to kill you all. Any agreement with her was a lie. All Dominicos are our enemy. And once Marcello’s dead, your brother will be next.”
“My sire will outlive you all,” I taunted, trying to focus on his threat against Gabriel. “So, I hope you’re a patient male because you’ll be waiting awhile.”
I doubted Marcello would outlive anyone, given Emberline had sworn to send him to hell. I might never have my vengeance, but my brother had promised—Nico had promised—to protect my wife, and together, I trusted the three of them would bring the Dynasty crashing down.
I would never see that day, but I could picture Emberline standing in the ruins like a conquering queen.
“Normally, I’d agree with you except for the fact that your sire has been consuming a steady diet of silver oxide.” Giovanni winked, and my rage evaporated, even my hate going silent. “His new chef, as a matter of fact, uses it as a special ingredient in every meal.”
Fuck. Fuck. We should have anticipated he’d go after Marcello.
“Poison,” I spat. “So like a DiRavello. No honor in war, eh?”
“Honor is for the defeated, not the victors. Of course, how could you know, since this is where you ended up?” Now, there was a different light brewing in his eyes, not the glee of torture, but the weight of judgment.
I’d seen that look before.
The moment your captor realized they no longer needed you.
Because once Marcello was gone, the entire Dynasty would be Giovanni’s for the taking. Nothing stood in his way, except for Gabriel, and now… I couldn’t even warn my brother he was in danger.
Giovanni straightened, sighing theatrically. “I tire of these games,” he announced, no longer keeping his voice low. The words rolled across the training pit, and in the shadows, prisoners began to murmur.
“He’s not going to break.” Gio looked over to the Overseer, impatience tightening his expression. “And it’s costing me too much to keep feeding your… little enterprise.”
My stomach dropped when Giovanni’s attention landed fully on me, and the smile he wore was almost kind. Would he kill me now?
Or draw this out?
Knowing Giovanni, knowing his love of spectacle, either was a possibility. But I was a secret he couldn’t risk being discovered.
“However, I did make you certain assurances, so we shall come to an agreement,” Giovanni faced the Overseer. “Keep him alive until tomorrow night. That gives you two days. Spend him wisely. Break him, use him up, but when the sun sets, I want him executed and disposed of.”
Two days.
My death sentence landed like a stone dropped into still water—a splash, then a series of slow, horrifying ripples. For a heartbeat, all I heard was the pounding of my own heart.
But this was good. If I could hold on for two more days without turning, then I would have won, in a twisted kind of way.
Giovanni watched me, savoring my defeat like wine.
“No trace left behind,” he added. “Bury him far out in the desert where he will never be found.” His gaze flickered over my ruined body.
“No funeral pyre for you, Dante Dominico,” he murmured.
“You will be denied entrance to the afterlife.” Then he smiled one last time, bright as a blade.
“Enjoy your remaining fights,” he said. “There are not many left.”
I remained on my knees in the center of the pit, blood drying on my skin, sand clinging to my wounds, watching Giovanni disappear behind iron doors.
Two days.
Two fucking days to live the rest of my life.
I would never see Emberline again. Never touch her or kiss her, but I made myself a promise. Above me, the Overseer’s gaze burned cold and hungry, and I met his dark eyes with a promise of my own.
I might be headed straight to hell, but I was taking that fucker with me when I went.
And then the gates opened back up, and the crowd began to roar.