“You did well. There’s a bonus for each of you,” I told them as the desert fell away beneath us in a rush of red sand and broken rock. I took one last look at the gaping hole that had been the Fossa—now a gash in the sand, as if someone had reached down and stabbed the desert with a knife.
Emberline’s eyes fluttered for half a second before she forced them open again, stubborn as always. Dante wrapped his arms around her, and the next second, she was fast asleep.
Nico braced a hand on the ceiling, trading a long, pointed look with me.
Yes, we had my brother back, but we were fucked. We’d just declared war on Giovanni, and whatever hope we’d had of operating from the shadows was gone. Chances were someone had survived the carnage, and wordwould—eventually—get back to him that Emberline was alive, Dante was free, and then our battles would be fought in the open, on the streets of Venice.
Dante kept his arms around his wife, watching the humans beneath lowered brows, fangs showing beneath his battered lip, something unhinged in his gaze. He’d stayed away from civilization for a decade after he escaped the Fossa last time, because he’d been…unfit to be around other vampires.
He’d been ranting about the same thing when we’d tried to get him out.
I had to wonder… what if a month of torture, starvation, and fucking brutality sent him back to that dark place? Or would he pull himself together and fight, as we’d planned?
The mortal arms dealer sat opposite us, legs wide, one thumb casually looped into his pistol harness like he was trying to prove he wasn’t afraid. Which was a lie.
His pulse throbbed in the hollow of his throat.
His sweat reeked of adrenaline.
But he was that particular breed of mortal we vampires dealt with over the centuries, both greedy and tough.
The kind who would do anything, risk anything, for enough coin.
They had existed since the first ships landed at the Venice docks, and they would exist long after I was gone, but for today, this mortal had earned his money.
He cleared his throat, trying to maintain the appearance that he was in control in front of his men, and I could hardly blame him. In our line of work, weakness—for both of our species—was a death sentence, and I might have need of him again.
“Well,” he shouted over the rotor thrum, voice pitched too loud, “I’d say I came through for you and then some.”
I just stared.
He shifted in his seat. “I did everything you asked. I delivered. I blew the perimeter, I gave you your,”—his eyes flicked to Dante, then away as if looking directly at him might invite death—“your kin back. So. Let’s renegotiate.”
Nico’s gaze slid toward him, slow and flat. Even Dante’s eyes narrowed, exhausted but sharp.
I leaned forward just enough that the arms dealer’s heart rate spiked again, letting my voice cut through the noise without raising it.
“You’ll get what you’re owed. As agreed.”
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath the sheen of sweat, his men looking anywhere but at the two of us. “Look, this was a delicate operation, and I trust you to pay me, I’m not saying I don’t, but I’m just… I took on a lot of risk today. Men and munitions, anything could have gone wrong.”
“And yet, it didn’t,” I said evenly. “And never call my character into question. You’ll get the balance of your payment the moment we’re back in Venice.”
The arms dealer’s mouth tightened. A flicker of resentment crossed his face. He couldn’t bully me the way he bullied other men, couldn’t leverage another few hundred thousand out of me because he decided he had the advantage.
But there was a thin line between greed and foolishness.
This time, he tried a more dangerous tack. His eyes narrowed. “I figured it out, you know. Why you picked me. Giovanni can’t trace this back to you because you used a human. Now, I held up my end. I’ll want something substantial in return.”
“I’d say your life is pretty godsdamned substantial,” Nico purred, not looking at him. “Of course, I might be wrong aboutthat. On the other hand, we could kill you all, bury you out here, and no one would be the wiser, and see if the city misses a bunch of piece-of-shit mercenaries.” He shrugged. “I doubt they would, but I could be wrong.”
The arms dealer went still.
“And to think I was actually considering using your services in the future.” I tsked. “You will be paid,” I repeated. “Fairly, for services rendered. Ask more of me, and you’ll discover the difference between my patience and Nico’s blades.”
Silence fell after that, heavy despite the roar of the aircraft.
The helicopter droned on, slicing through the heat. The desert before us was endless sun-bleached dunes that stretched out into eternity. Finally, the helicopter banked right and started to drop.
