Page 104 of Devoted

“Well, we are all here. Except Vincenzo, of course. I sent word to the temple, but my messengers were turned away, so we shall proceed without him.”

There was no judgment in those words, no clue as to what his game was, but that was part of Giovanni’s political skill. He was impossible to read, his motives securely hidden behind that doughy façade of his. Father always claimed he was the most dangerous vampire in our Dynasty, and while there was a time I’d laughed, I was laughing no more.

“Welcome back, Don DiRavello,” I murmured, dipping my head to an angle of flawless respect. “It is good to have you back.”

“Lady Demente.” His simpering smile was edged with malice. “I am so glad you are attending today. We have a busy schedule. But with your help, I have hope we shall cross all the items off our agenda.”

I was imagining trouble where there was none, I told myself. Everything seemed… as fine as it could be, given I was surrounded by back-stabbing, power-hungry immortals.

At least my days of making small talk with Blackwood as he ogled me had finally come to an end, thank fuck.

And if Giovanni was back to making public appearances, we had a chance to strike. I was privy to the council meeting schedule. We knew where he would be. Severin could provide the manpower, and Dante would be happy enough to burn this fucker to ash.

And that’s if Emberline didn’t stab a dagger into his heart first.

Once he was gone, we’d drive Blackwood out of Venice, and Gabriel would become Don and put things back to rights.

Leaning back in my chair, I took a deep, calming breath, already feeling better about the future.

“To our first order of business.” Giovanni lifted his hand. “Bring them in,” he announced to someone outside in the hall, and I turned my head, expecting some member of a royal family pleading for a bigger cut, more territory, better smuggling routes.

That was the thing about the mafia—everyone always wanted more.

Blackwood’s guards came through the door, but with them… suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

Fear paralyzed me, because this was surely a trap and I was caught.

They dragged my cousins, Sophia and Leon Demente, through the door, followed by my aunt and uncle. All of them had been tortured, my uncle Louis so badly beaten, he hung unconscious between the two guards, blood dripping from his mouth, leaving a trail out into the hall.

“Please,” my Aunt Aurora begged, her voice shrill with desperation. “We haven’t done anything. Whatever this is about, we’re innocent.”

I gripped the edge of the table, nails digging into the dark wood, terror clawing up my throat as my aunt was dropped messily onto the marble, hands still clasped before her.

I had to do something.

I had to stop this.

“No one in this Dynasty is innocent,” Giovanni answered cheerfully. “The question is, are you loyal? Now that Marcello is gone, we are returning to the old customs and the ancient rites. I will decide who is loyal, and your family,”—his pale eyes settled on them like an executioner’s blade—“are not. Thus, you have been selected for extermination.”

My aunt turned her desperate gaze on me, and I thought I was going to be ill. “No. No. Tell them, Valeria, tell them. We have served faithfully for decades. Whatever you’ve heard is a lie. We are innocent. We are loyal. The Basin itself judged us worthy.”

Beside her, Sophia wept as Leon lowered his head, bending until he touched the floor. “Mercy, Don Giovanni,” he pleaded hoarsely. “We will swear any oath to you and your bloodline. We will serve wherever the council commands. We have done nothing wrong.”

I didn’t know what to do.

There was no doubt in my mind that if I interfered, I’d be on my knees, right alongside them. And if I was locked up, how long before our plot was discovered?

I glanced over to Severin, who gave me the slightest shake of his head.

Do not interfere.

I calculated frantically, running through every possible scenario I remembered about extermination. We still had time. There was a clear process in place for purging a bloodline. They had one appeal. Then a retrial.

Two days, maybe.

Some of the tension seeped out of my shoulders. In the meantime, they would be placed in cells here in the palazzo. And we would free them, like we’d freed Rocco and then… we’d fucking end this travesty, because this was bullshit.

Except… why had they chosen my bloodline? Coincidence?