Page 147 of Devoted

“The beach. Yes, I know.”

He went completely still as he stared down at me, hardly breathing. “There is no way for you to know that. Even Enzo never discovered I planted that bomb. How could you possibly…”

“Ottavia told me herself.” I didn’t look away, watching his face change as the truth sank in—disbelief to fear to a terrible realization that had him stepping back, putting distance between us.

“She’s told me many things, Uncle. Father has, too.” I advanced slowly, and even bloodied, with my hands bound behind my back, fear flashed in his eyes. “My only regret is, I should have figured you out sooner and slit your throat in your sleep as soon as I knew how to handle a knife.”

“You don’t know…”

“Ah, but I do, Uncle. I know how you hunger for power. How you’ve sold your soul to the devil, and how you fear even that sacrifice will never be enough. You might buy a few weeks or even months of power with our deaths, but you won’t last a year as Don. That I can promise.”

“You’ll be dead in the morning,” he hissed, his movements frantic. “And your brother will die in months, or a year, after Lord Blackwood has squeezed every ounce of use out of him. For what it’s worth, this outcome was always inevitable. Neither of you were meant to survive.” My uncle looked past me toward the far end of the dock, and when I followed his gaze against my better judgment…

The others were being loaded onto the boat, every one of my males fighting for their lives, Dante knocking two guards into the water.

Good.

I hoped they fucking drowned.

“Someday, you’ll get what’s coming to you. I won’t be around to see it, but maybe my husband will. Or Nico. Or even Luca. You can kill me, but you will never erase who I was.”

Giovanni raised his hand, and two guards grabbed my arms and started dragging me toward the boat.

“Oh, and as far as me being difficult? Sticks and stones, uncle. Sticks and stones.”

The closer I got to the boat—to all that cold iron—my body began to rebel. Bile clogged my throat, and my stomach clenched, muscles twitching of their own accord until nothing was working right. They tossed me over the side, and I landed on the metal deck. I managed to lift my head.

Luca was standing beside Giovanni.

His eyes were fully black.

And they’d never again be that warm brown again, full of life and humor, his lips curved into that perpetual smirk, always on the verge of telling some awful joke that wasn’t really funny.

He looked right at me, and there was nothing of my brother left, except for the skin.

I looked away as they lifted me and carried me over to the bench.

My shackles were chained to the bench through a ring that had no give. Gabriel was on my left, Nico to my right, Dante and Valeria across from us. My husband stared at me with such intensity, if there wasn’t so much godsdamned iron, I’d probably burst into flames.

“I’m okay.” I took a breath and swallowed down the bile, fighting this suffocating feeling.

“We’re going to get out of this,” Dante growled, “Just hang on.”

The boat’s engines roared as we pulled away from the dock, Valeria’s island growing smaller and smaller, the fire little more than a glowing orange spot against the darkness.

I focused on the water. On the familiar salt smell of the Adriatic as we raced across the surface, the big engines drowning out everything else. I could breathe easier, though I still felt like I was going to throw up. There were five of us, but we were all shackled.

We had no weapons.

There were twelve… fourteen guards.

“Heard the dark-haired bitch can’t swim.”

The voice came from my right, followed by a smattering of cruel laughter. I went still, keeping my head hung low. On either side, Gabriel and Nico moved closer, pressing me firmly between them.

Two black boots appeared in my line of sight. Stopped.

“Is that right?” he said. “The great Dominico principessa is afraid of the water?”