Page 13 of Devoted

The boat lights illuminated the rough edge of an old stone dock, and part of me relaxed, seeing something solid emerge out of the dim.

Nico cut the engine and flipped on his torch, shining the beam across the cavernous space. Old, rotting boxes tumbled down onto the dock, tattered ropes hung from rusting metal cleats, and the space stank of abandonment. Of air that had been closed off for too long, of stagnant water that hadn’t moved in years.

The moment the boat bumped against stone, Gabriel leapt up to the edge—a good four feet higher than the deck—and tied off the ropes. Once the craft was secured, my husband lifted me up into his brother’s arms.

Gabriel cradled me close, ran his nose up the side of my face, inhaling deeply.

“It’s low tide. Usually the water level is higher,” Gabriel explained, setting me on my feet, his hands lingering on my waist before turning to give his brother, then Luca, a hand up. The dock was at least fifteen meters long, cluttered with fallen chunks of the old, beamed ceiling, forgotten cargo, and something that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

Opposite the water, narrow openings were cut into the long wall of stacked stone, warped wooden doors hanging precariously from rotten hinges. A small, dark shape skittered along the wall, a rat or mouse, before slipping beneath a crack and disappearing.

“Those rotting doors lead into the old servants’ quarters,” Gabriel explained, crossing to a bank of corroded copper switches. He flipped them on, and a handful of incandescent bulbs flickered to life, then he headed for the enormous padlocked gate that blockaded a wide, steel door.

“Here is the main entrance to the palazzo. The cells are just on the other side.”

The ironwork on the gate was heavy, intricate, and original to the building.

“This door leads into the main storage room, and beyond that are the dungeons, so we’re close to where Rocco should be. We go through the storage room, then a straight shot down the hall. He should be in one of the cells.”

I ripped off the blond wig and tossed it back into the boat, followed by my loose shirt, ignoring Nico’s snort when he spotted the black sports bra I had on underneath.

“Now we’re talking, princess.” Nico waggled his eyebrows. “Way to add some spice to an otherwise boring mission.”

“Shut up. I need to be able to fight.” I wrinkled my nose. “At least I didn’t almost wreck us on the way in.”

Nico put his hand to his chest in mock outrage. “I’m hurt. Are you insulting my expert boat driving skills?”

“If those are expert skills, then Gabriel’s driving on the way back.”

Nico just winked.

I found Luca watching me, a knife gripped in one hand. Are you okay?

Sure. I love being stuck in a creepy underground watery tomb that reminds me of that one time I died. Why do you ask?

What do you think is behind that door?

A bunch more moldy boxes, most likely. After that? Your guess is as good as mine.

“Does everyone know what to do?” Gabriel asked, scanning our faces briefly. “Once we’re through that door, we’re committed. Expect mercenaries, Blackwood’s guards, and Ashbound, at minimum.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Dante growled, twin flames igniting in his eyes. “This place is creeping me out.” He brushed my cheek, and I stepped closer, knowing he wasn’t creeped out about anything, least of all his family’s spooky old dock.

Gabriel stepped up to the ironwork gate, the cipher in his hand, murmured an unbinding spell, and a sharp metallic click echoed through the cavernous space. He pushed the gate open, then the door, swinging inward on squealing hinges, and we all held our breath.

But nothing waited on the other side except a dark, empty room.

Dante went through first, then Nico and Gabriel swept an arm out in front of me. “After you, bella.”

This part of La Sala must have been the smuggling staging area. Serviceable stone floors, vaulted ceilings that echoed back every footstep, and piles of wood-slatted boxes, some still full of dusty bottles, were stacked in haphazard piles. The storage room smelled of damp limestone and centuries of neglect.

Shadows spilling all around him, Nico took point, then Luca and me, Dante and Gabriel bringing up the rear. My brother pressed a palm to the door leading into the main building, beads of sweat on his forehead, concentrating on whatever lay beyond.

What do you see, Luca?

Nothing.

That’s good, right?