Page 18 of His Eternal Claim

“Corvin is restless,” the clinical voice says. “He’s tired of your games, Hannah. He wants the throne. And it won’t be long before Zagreus comes for her and you.”

“Zagreus is a dog chasing his own tail,” my Mother snaps. I hear the rustle of silk. “He thinks he’s not his Father, but he’s more ruthless than his Father. She’s the only way to get to him. We can trade her for the Italian throne and the ledgers.”

“Trade? You’ll return her to him?”

My Mother scoffs. “Trade happens when both parties are equally benefited. I’m not returning him his wife, but a weapon that has been dismantled and reassembled to blow up in his face.”

The woman I don’t know replies, “And if he sees through the fog?”

“He won’t,” the woman I once called Mama whispers. “Zagreus is a man ruled by a singular, blinding obsession. He’ll be so grateful to have his ‘miracle’ back that he won’t notice the fuse is already lit. By the time he realizes she’s not the woman he knew, the ledgers will be in my hands, and the Italian throne will be vacant for the taking. Corvin can take it for all I care.”

I am a bargaining chip in a war between the woman who birthed me and the man who branded me.

“Anyway, keep an eye on her. We’ll need her sane for the flight.”

Their footsteps retreat, and the door clicks shut. I don’t move for a long time. I just lie there.

Property of the Cosa Nostra.

Love is just a pretty word for a debt you can’t pay.

I sit up, the fake drowsiness falling away.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

It’s not my heart. It’s the air being displaced. It’s the sound of a predator coming home. And a realization so deep I can’t process it.

Chapter 9

Fracture

THE MAESTRO | Past

You’re getting married?”

The pain in her voice crushes me in ways I can’t explain. It’s more violent than any strike my Father has ever landed. I stand there, watching the light die out of her eyes.

I can’t tell her what I’m planning. I can’t tell her that the ink on the engagement papers is the blood of my own soul, shed to keep her breathing. If I tell her the truth—that she is a distraction my Father is ready to execute—she’ll try to fight it. She’ll try to be brave. And in our world, bravery for a woman like Selene is just a faster way to a shallow grave.

Crystella Novak is promised to be my bride. And if I want the title of Capo, I need the trust; I need to put a ring on her finger. But the variable in my constant is heartbroken.

I did not want her to know this way.

I can’t bring harm upon her. So my only option is to watch her from the shadows I’ve inhabited my entire life. She is my Dolcezza, my muse, my world, my sun and my moon. The only woman I can die for, and the only woman I have already killed for. The only woman I am planning to kill for again.

I’ve avoided her, terrified that the scent of gunpowder and iron would cling to my skin and tip her off to the monster I’m becoming.

But now, I can’t run.

She’s standing in front of me, her lips trembling, her eyes watery and wide.

I know she’s about to cry.

I know she wants me to deny it, to laugh and tell her it’s a sick joke, to pull her into my arms and kiss her sinful mouth until the world disappears.

I want that more than I want my next breath.