Page 50 of Unbound

“Are you all right?” Minnie asks, coming to stand by my side. “That was pretty … intense.”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Both our phones are ringing, and I don’t need to look at the screen to see who it is. He’ll be calling me on his cell, her on a landline. I roll my eyes, pull mine from my pocket.

“Hi darling,” I say. “I’m fine. Fought of a grief-crazed mamma with a knife, incinerated a rosebush, have a tiny nick on my neck. Oh yeah, also smashed a coffee cup. But other than that …”

He growls, and I know my flippant tone is annoying him. I get that. He knew I was in danger; he maybe knew I was bleeding, and it terrified him. I do not have the monopoly on worry. But making light of things is how I have survived my whole life, and that’s unlikely to change.

“Really, Luca. I’m okay. I have a lot to tell you though. Can I call you later?”

“You better, cara mia, or there will be hell to pay.” And just like that, he hangs up. I stare at the phone, shake my head. Rude.

Bruno has helped Veronica sit up, but she still looks queasy. Weirdly, though, there is also some reason back in her eyes. Eyes that are currently narrowed in my direction. She might be more reasonable now, but that clearly doesn’t mean she likes me.

“I think you ruptured one of my eardrums,” she says, very loudly. Yeah. I guess she might be right.

“Well, I think you injured my throat and left me with a bump on my head. We’ll call it quits, shall we?”

Bruno strokes her hair away from her face, gazes at her. Drops a kiss on her lips. I look away. It is too intimate, too sad. It makes me want to cry, seeing what has been done to this family by my own.

I start to walk back up the steps into the house. I need a minute. I’ve reached the doorway when she calls, “Rosa Capelli!”

I pause, freeze on the spot. She has that tone of voice that mammas have, the one that makes you feel like you’ve been caught doing something naughty. The one I didn’t get to hear for anywhere long enough in my own life. “What?”

“Did you mean what you said? That you promise to kill him?”

I turn around, meet her eyes. I nod slowly.

“He murdered my mother and my father. Both my sisters. My twin, Serena, was burned alive, dying in agony. He abused me throughout my childhood. He stole my brother and turned him into something I didn’t even recognize. He is responsible for the death of your daughter, the death of Paola Bianchi’s child. The death of countless innocents who got caught up in his callous waging of war using vampires for hire as his weapons. He continues to do so now. So, yeah. I meant it. I will find him, and I will kill him.”

She listens, then very slowly nods. She squeezes her eyes open and shut a couple of times as though she’s clearing her head, then Bruno helps her to her unsteady feet. Do I feel bad that I hurt her? No, because she was fully intending to kill me. I refuse to feel guilty about that at least. The rest, my genetics, I can do nothing to change, so what’s the point?

“I believe you,” she says, her voice heavy with emotion. “Now. What can we do to help?”

“For now, let me drink a coffee without trying to slit my throat. Later? We’ll see.”

I head back inside. I put on a good front, but I notice as I pour the next cup that my hands are trembling so much, I slosh black liquid all over the white linen cloth on the table. It spreads, stains, and I put the cup down.

I stare some more at my hands. Wonder if this is just me, or if it’s down to the spell that Minnie chased off. I don’t know. She has speculated that after Serena’s death, I could have the power of two Seers—could it be part of that? Could the magic have somehow reacted to that latent power, ignited it?

I have no fucking clue, and I’m so tired of this situation. I force myself to calm. Pour the coffee with steadier hands. I don’t have time to shake. Now, more than ever, I need to be strong. I have an evil granddaddy to slay and a witch slash vampire Mafia Don boyfriend to protect.

Chapter 21

Luca

Islam the phone down so hard, it smashes. Aidan looks at me and immediately gets a fresh one from a cupboard in our office. They’re landlines, old-fashioned. Infinitely breakable, infinitely replaceable.

“That go well?” he asks sarcastically.

“The Don of the Milanos is even more of an asshole than Luigi.”

And that is really saying something, as the Roma Don has been a pain in my ass ever since I took over.

“But he agreed to come here?”

“Yeah. It was here or fuck you. But he made me work for it, and my patience is now so thin, it’s invisible. Where the fuck is Roberto, by the way?”