“He can do what the fuck he likes!” Carlos screeches, shoving Luca in the chest. “He’s the Don, and you’re just scum. You’re a cockroach, a maggot, a worm crawling through shit?—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” groans Luca. “I’m so sick of listening to you, you twisted fuck. If I’m going to die tonight, I’m taking you with me.” He reaches out, grabs Carlos’s head, and drags it toward his face. With sudden ferocity, he strikes, tearing into his neck. After a few seconds, Luca pushes him away. The blood from his carotid spurts in a high arc, pumping and spraying as Carlos pathetically tries to hold it in. He stares at Luca, disbelieving, then slumps to the floor, twitching before going still.
Luca grins at me, his teeth and fangs shining white amid all the red, and gives me a wink. Carlos’s blood has started to strengthen him.
Throughout all of this, Don Vincenzo has remained impassive. He looks down at Carlos’s body, shakes his head once, showing no emotion at all. Slowly, he climbs the stone steps to his throne and resettles his desiccated body into it.
“What’s going on?” Donna asks as Matteo dashes over to us. I’m listening, but I’m also keeping an eye on the Grand Ball Sack. He’ll have his own guards with him somewhere. If he gets to them, he could escape—and he could try to take me with him. That is not going to happen.
I grab the lapels of the Grand Ball Sack’s suit and pull him toward me. He smells like he always has—his cologne, the faint hint of tobacco—and it turns my stomach to be so close to him. To this man who has done so much damage and plans on doing so much more.
“Did you kill them?” I ask, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Mama, Papa, Angela… Serena? Was that all you?”
He sneers at me, and despite his position of weakness, he still somehow manages to appear superior. He doesn’t deny it, only glares. “You should have died,” he hisses. “Not her.”
“Yeah, I know. You’ve mentioned that before.” I headbutt him so hard he drops to the floor. Now he’s going nowhere. It hurts, but not as much as it helps. I should have done that years ago.
The strange quiet in the room has been replaced by a low-level hum of confused conversation as Luca staggers toward Vincenzo’s throne. The guards who were previously holding him now seem to be protecting him, hovering around him. One of them pats him on the dislocated shoulder.
“He’s successfully challenged the Don,” Matteo says, shaking his head. “The reckless bastard.”
“What does that mean?” Pietro asks, leaning on Donatella for support, one of his legs trembling violently.
“It means he’s going to die! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Matteo chants. “I didn’t think he was actually stupid enough to do it.”
“Do what exactly?” I narrow my eyes on Vincenzo. “Some kind of duel? Because he doesn’t look like he’s leaving that chair of his.”
“He has to fight him,” Matteo explains, his brutal face a picture of pain. “It’s a matter of honor and respect. If any Don refuses a challenge, they don’t last long—they lose their people.”
“I know Luca’s a mess right now, but surely he can still beat him?” Donna asks, staring at the shriveled old man in his stupid throne, his expression serene.
“You don’t know shit,” Matteo says sadly. “Vincenzo owns Luca, and Vincenzo is the oldest vamp on the planet. He’s stronger than all the rest of us put together. Luca doesn’t stand a chance.”
“What can we do?” Desperation rushes through me. “How can we help?”
He swipes at his face with his huge hands. Fuck. He’s actually crying. “You can help by coming with me. That’s what he wanted. That’s what this is for—it’s a distraction. He wanted to create enough chaos that we could get away. He told me to get you out of here, no matter what.”
“Well, he doesn’t get to do that,” I growl, knowing I’m taking my anger out on the wrong person. “He doesn’t get to make that choice for me! He doesn’t get to sacrifice himself.” I’m crying now as well, and Matteo grabs me, slams me against his rock-hard chest, and keeps me there. He wraps his arms around me, and we cling to each other.
“He loves you, babe,” he murmurs into my ear. “He’d do anything for you—including die. Now come on, let’s get going, or this whole fucking thing will be for nothing.”
I struggle out of his grip and whirl around to find Luca. To find my man. The love of my life. I don’t care if there’s a blood spell or that he lied. None of that matters. All that matters is that I reach him and find a way to keep him alive.
The guards have walked with him down the steps at the side of the stage, and the three of them are now standing on the red carpet in the center. In the square that now, more than ever, looks like a gladiator pit.
Four other vamps slip out from the crowd and surround Luca in a small formation. I recognize one of them as Stefano, the guard who was outside Vincenzo’s garden earlier. “The challenge has been issued,” he shouts in that gravelly Marlboro Man voice of his, “with witnesses, as is required. Don Vincenzo, do you accept the rightful challenge of Luca da Firenze?”
It feels formal, structured, like a formulaic ceremony where certain things must be said. Luca stands at the heart of it all, blood-smeared and battered, swaying slightly but staring straight up at the Don. At the man who I keep being told “owns” him.
I want to reach out to Luca and tell him how much I love him. To tell him how sorry I am for having wasted one single second of his company. I want to link my thoughts to his and never leave him alone again.
“Don’t.” Pietro places a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t distract him. And listen to Matteo—this is our chance. That man down there is willing to die to let you escape. Don’t waste it.” My brother has aged a decade in the last few days, and the fact that Tomasso fooled him will burn for a long time.
I pat his hand and smile. “That man down there might be willing to die for me, but I’m not willing to let him do that alone. If you and Donna want to go, go now. Let Matteo get you out of here. Go and warn the other Vecchissime, and maybe the other Coscas. Take Tomasso and throw him in the Hudson while you’re at it. But I’m going nowhere, Pietro. Nowhere at all.”
I shake him off, block them all out, and walk out of the wings to the edge of the stage. Nobody is looking at me—all eyes are on Luca and the impassive Don. I edge down the stairs and position myself off to the side of the red carpet. If necessary, I will fight the Don myself, but I will not let him casually end the life of the one man who has ever loved me. The one man I have ever loved.
I reach out with my mind, wanting to give him strength. Wanting to share some of my energy. All I find is a closed door and a fuzzy ringing in my ears like tinnitus. Either he’s locking me out, or he’s too badly injured to keep up a connection. It doesn’t matter. I’m still going nowhere.
