Chapter 62
EMBERLINE
Hours later, we found a quiet corner of the temple garden where the light filtered through the olive trees, a walled space with a stone bench and a stellar view of the lagoon between the ancient, twisted trunks.
I was cradled against Dante’s chest, Gabriel was rubbing my feet, and Nico was in the grass, my fingers threading through his long hair.
None of us spoke.
Like me, they were going over every step of our plan again, looking for holes, for weak points, for the place where everything would fall apart.
But it was too late to turn back.
Valeria’s network was in overdrive, frantic rumors already filtering back to Emilia and Severin through their spy networks. All of Venice’s Underworld was abuzz with the gossip that the Basin was missing and there was a five million solid gold reward for any information leading to its recovery.
Actually, Rocco’s network had put out the reward in an official document signed by Rocco Demente himself, who I expected was doing a lot of fast talking right about now to save his worthless ass.
Served the fucker right.
“We’re actually doing this, aren’t we?” Gabriel asked finally, his fingers pausing their very important work.
“We are.” I wiggled my toes. “Too late for second thoughts, I’m afraid, now that we’re all in.”
“Gods, it’s a relief, I think.” Gabriel’s exhale was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “To finally be doing something, instead of talking about doing something. To finally end this.”
“For once, let’s hope he’s underestimated us,” Dante added roughly. “And not the other way around.”
The olive trees rustled in the breeze, and somewhere in the temple behind us, priests chanted in unison, Emilia’s voice rising over the hum.
“I need you to know something.” Gabriel turned his face to the sun, highlighting the new scar on his forehead.
“Whatever happens next, no matter how this ends, I am glad it’s the three of you beside me.
I’m glad we’re together. Lovers and friends, you all have my heart.
You are the family I chose. The family I will always choose. ”
I closed my eyes against the burn of tears, throat so clogged with emotion I couldn’t do anything but nod.
Here I was, in the arms of an enemy I’d married for revenge, crying because I couldn’t live without any of them. They didn’t just own my heart—they owned my entire soul. They were my everything, and this crushing pressure in my heart was so rare, so precious, I wanted to cherish it forever.
Dante’s arms tightened around me, and I let myself savor this one perfect moment.
We were here.
We were together.
Whatever came next, we would meet it the same way.
Then footsteps crunched on stone. Heavy boots. Military.
And I opened one eye.
I didn’t remember Romulus being so godsdamned huge. I didn’t expect the corner of his mouth to lift in a wicked smirk, emerald eyes bright with amusement. He gave me, Dante, and Gabriel only a passing glance before turning the full force of his attention on Nico.
“Hello, Niccolò.”
The male—Emilia’s spy—wasn’t at all what I expected.
I wasn’t sure what I had expected, exactly—two hundred years hidden inside Blackwood’s organization suggested someone more… corrupted. Tainted by his master’s dark magic, ruined, like everything else Blackwood touched.
Instead, Romulus carried himself with the bearing of a king.
Regal yet serene, with a Roman nose, high cheekbones, and an elegant mouth, that strong face was framed by a fall of silver-white hair.
The male stood even taller than Dante, with an immense frame heavily layered with muscle, moving with a fluid grace that told me he knew his way around a sword, so light on his feet I realized those heavy bootsteps had been a courtesy.
A warning before he broke our solitude.
“Rom.” Nico shoved to his feet in one long surge of muscle, then clasped the male’s hand. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Emilia said you were out here.” His deep voice was strangely familiar, the cadence slow, in the way old vampires’ voices were measured, and I cocked my head, wondering just how old he was. “I have an hour before my absence is noticed.”
“I’ll keep this brief, then,” Nico said before running through the plan with his usual precision, laying everything out in clear steps, mentioning all possible pinch points, and finally, what we needed from him as far as Blackwood and Luca.
“Blackwood already has doubts,” he mused.
“The council in Rome is seldom stable; there is always discord. Cesare is well aware that one of the council members has been angling to depose him for years.” A short pause.
“I’ll build on that paranoia. Lucien can plant some evidence to back up my claims, but I will make sure he’s in Rome for three days. Four, if I can manage.”
“That should be long enough.” Nico’s mouth curved slightly. “Then the bastard can stay in there, for all I care.”
“I will have him out of Venice tonight.” Romulus dipped his head.
“As far as the Basin goes, Cesare was furious when Giovanni lost the relic the first time. I’ll casually mention the reward and the rumors swirling.
He’ll put more pressure on Giovanni, which will force him to move without his usual caution. ”
I nodded. “Thank you. My uncle doesn’t operate well under pressure.”
He touched his fingers to his forehead and offered me a half-bow, reminding me of manners from a millennium ago. “I am always happy to help a friend of Niccolò’s.”
I hadn’t stopped looking at him since he’d arrived. The strong angle of his jaw, those exotically sloped cheekbones, and deep-set eyes. The precise, unhurried mannerisms, the way he moved—careful and deliberately smooth, superbly comfortable in his body.
I recognized that proud, irreverent stance. The careless, yet arrogant tilt to his head. The liquid grace that turned his powerful body into a weapon.
Because I had spent the past few months beside someone who moved exactly the same way.
Honestly, that damned smirk should have been a dead giveaway.
“There’s something else. My brother, Luca. Blackwood… marked him with his magic.” I swallowed down my fear. “Like the Summoners. I’m afraid he’s going to use my brother as a weapon, or leverage, or worse.”
“Emilia has explained Luca’s situation.” Romulus’s expression shifted.
“Cesare’s magic… corrupts the body, and the blood, and eventually…
the soul. I do not tell you this to hurt you,” he hurried to add, “only so you understand Luca’s position.
Your brother—for the next few days—will be safer in Rome than here, and I will ensure he’s well protected. ”
“Thank you, I appreciate your help.” And I believed Romulus would help Luca. He seemed like the kind of male who made a promise and kept it.
Then Romulus opened his arms, and Nico stepped into the embrace without any of the awkwardness that usually attended displays of affection between people who don’t know each other well.
This was natural, and seeing them next to each other…
A chill went through me, as if someone had just walked over my grave.
“You did well bringing your friends here.” Romulus’s expression softened when his eyes dipped to me. “But the real fight will not be easy. Blackwood… you already know the dangers he presents.”
The older vampire drew back and stared at Nico—deep and long, the way you looked at someone when you wondered if you’d ever see them again. “Don’t take any chances when you’re facing Giovanni. He’ll have some tricks up his sleeve. Finish him off like I taught you. Be decisive.”
“I never do anything foolish.” Nico grinned with that arrogant tip of his head.
Romulus shook his head with an exasperated expression that strongly suggested he had significant evidence to the contrary. “Take care of yourself.”
“Take care of Luca.” Nico’s jaw flexed as he ground his molars. “He’s family now. Whatever else happens—protect him. Like you protected me.”
Something like regret flickered across Romulus’s face, then he gripped Nico’s shoulder and squeezed. “Count on it,” he said, then turned and left, boots not making a sound on the gravel.
I watched him leave and didn’t say a thing. Not about how their faces had the same shape, they used the same gestures, the way they held themselves, that particular predatory stillness they both shared.
There could be a good explanation—obviously, Romulus had been present during Nico’s childhood, but there was something deeper, something I couldn’t explain with words. And the pride in Romulus’s face when he’d looked at Nico—that had been more than professional respect.
Later, I thought.
We’d have time for questions later.
Assuming we survived these next forty-eight hours.
I found Emilia in her study and borrowed ink, a pen, and a sheet of her good paper.
“Are you certain about this?” she asked, leaning over my shoulder to look at what I was writing.
“My uncle’s biggest Achilles heel is his pride. I’m just giving him some final motivation. Think of this as a pep talk,” I said pleasantly and kept writing.
I kept the note short. Too many details and I’d trip us up.
Dearest Uncle,
As I’m sure you know by now, your Basin is the fake.
We still have the real one. Too bad you’ll never find it—though you can try.
Once Blackwood discovers your latest failure, perhaps you’ll learn what it’s like to have the Drax suck out your soul. I doubt he has the patience for another mistake.
Your beloved niece, Emberline
P.S. Freedom tastes even sweeter the second time around. Better luck next time.
I folded the paper in half, put it in a plain red envelope, and wrote Giovanni’s name on the front. He’d recognize my handwriting. Emilia’s messenger would hand this off to Valeria’s network, who would make sure it arrived at the palazzo within the hour.
“How fast can you get this into the city?” I asked Emilia.
She smiled and called for one of her warrior priests.