Each Blood Compact reinforced the connection. Deepened the mark already made. A magical fingerprint pressed further and further into the soul until separation became impossible. As did hiding. No matter how far we ran, we would never escape the Basin’s claim.
I flipped pages faster now, breath shallow as I read annotation after annotation.
The Basin remembers even when we forget; its memory goes back to the first drop absorbed, and it forgets nothing.
Repeated judgments create an opportunity for stronger control. The more blood offered during the ceremony, the more powerful the binding.
My heart began to pound. I’d been foolish this year, spilling so much blood. More than all my times before.
Every member of the Dynasty participated in this last Blood Compact; Marcello had made sure of that.
Every Pentarch. Every heir. Every sworn soldier and lesser house bound by oath. Blood willingly given. Names and titles invoked in the name of honor and fealty.
We thought we were swearing our lives to the Dynasty, not to some… ancient, bewitched artifact.
“Oh gods,” I whispered. If Giovanni ever possessed the Basin, if he could access whatever magic made the thing work, we’d all be under his control.Every last one of us.
An angry shout tore through the air outside.
I was on my feet instantly, as another shout followed, closer this time, edged with pain.
Have we been found?
“Dante.Stop.” Nico’s voice rang out in warning, and I raced for the door, heart hammering, the echo of one terrible truth roaring through my mind as I prepared to meet our enemies.
34
DANTE
Fucking fine.
So, I hit Nico harder than I meant to.
Not enough to break bone—but enough to drive the air from his lungs in a sharp, involuntary grunt as he skidded backward across the flagstones. His boot heel caught on a cracked paver, shoulders rolling as he regained his balance.
The sound of his cursing sent a vicious spike of satisfaction through me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nico grunted, rubbing the point of impact. He reset his stance, already assessing payback.He was going to make this hurt. “You’re not fighting for your life. This is just to blow off some steam,stronzo.”
He’d almost killed Emberline.
I couldn’t get the image out of my head—him pressing that blade to her throat, her fighting desperately to stop him.
I bared my teeth, sweat stinging my eyes. “You’re talking too much. As usual.”
“Yeah, well, sue me. Some of us aren’t built to sit around and brood all day.”
The garden was small, high-walled—a narrow street just on the other side, laundry flapping overhead. Gods, I wanted to burn this whole place to the ground.
He’d almost killed Emberline.
I felt like a prisoner here.
At least in my shitty house, it had been me and Emberline, arguing and fighting and making love. That had felt real. That had feltgood. Here, we were all bumping elbows, and I already felt caged.
And I still wasn’t back to full strength. I hated how my muscles burned after an hour of this, how my lungs grew too sluggish too quickly. Every strike reminded me that I’d been dragged out of the Fossa like a victim—half-dead, starved, broken—needing help to keep me upright.
Needing saving.
