Page 128 of Devoted

“Can you get this dark magic out of my brother? Whatever Blackwood put in? He made a dagger… a spear, out of his shadows, and whatever was inside it hit Luca, just as we were escaping La Sala. That was a week ago. Is it too late?”

Nico hadn’t moved from his spot near the door. He stood there with a horrified expression on his face, staring at my brother, as if this was somehow his fault. I wanted to take him by the shoulders and tell him it wasn’t, but Severin stepped between us, body braced in a way that told me he was expecting a fight.

“I’ve locked down the entire Draconi Island. Given our location and the strength of our wards, we can withstand an extended assault. He’d be safer there than here. The boy is a liability as long as Blackwood can control him.” His voice held no hint of violence, but I tore myself out of Dante’s hold and put myself between him and my brother all the same.

“My brother is dying. He’s not a fucking liability, so whatever you’re thinking, you can just fucking forget it.”

“The fortress has secure cells.” Severin’s tone softened. “Properly warded, where the connection could be contained or even broken. He would be safer if Blackwood didn’t have access to his mind. Even you have to admit that.”

“You’re still talking about locking him in a cell. In a stone fortress, so the answer is no. Luca needs healers. He needs our help. He sure as fuck doesn’t need to be behind bars.”

“Emberline…”

“My brother has been carrying this secret alone for weeks, terrified and unable to tell anyone because I was too fucking focused on killing my uncle and saving this Dynasty from Blackwood. Well, guess what? It’s time for me to figure out how to save my brother now. He’s not becoming a prisoner in your godsdamned fortress.”

“This is the only…”

“Luca’s not going anywhere. He stays with me. And we figure out how to get Blackwood out of his head without locking my brother in a cage. He has been through enough, and I will not abandon him. Not now. Not ever.”

Emilia’s dark gaze glittered in disagreement, and I held her stare long enough, she dropped her eyes first.

“There may be a way,” she said after a moment. “But saving your brother will require time. And it will not be without cost.”

Nico looked at her, and something passed between them, and I knew then that whatever favors Nico owed Emilia, this one would be bigger than all the rest combined.

“Tell me what you need,” was all he said.

CHAPTER 49

GABRIEL

The rooftop was old, terracotta tiles, slippery with moss and softened by centuries of salt air, leaving stains on my knees as I knelt down, overlooking the crowded walled garden of the DiRavello palazzo, half hidden by the swaying leaves of an ancient maple tree.

Enzo had planted that tree himself, a sapling barely taller than himself, according to my father.

Now his brother held court beneath those heavy boughs, sitting in the shade of a tree planted by the very male he’d betrayed.

It was grotesque, the way things had worked out. That a heartless monster had taken the place of a good male, stolen his life, his empire… everything he’d ever loved.

And I would take it all back.

For Emberline.

And for me.

Giovanni was surrounded by the heads of the lesser houses, ambitious mafia families scrambling for a seat at the council table. Even from here, I scented their fear and their greed, backs stiff as they bowed and groveled, laughing too loudly at something Gio said, calculating their chances at negotiating for better territories, a larger cut of the profits, more lucrative shipping routes.

Or one of the golden chairs at the council table.

Little did they know their efforts were wasted.

That Giovanni held all the cards right now, and they could ass-kiss all they wanted—they weren’t getting shit.

Six brutish Dynasty guards were posted inside the garden walls, another two at the arched entrance leading into the palazzo. At least ten outside, hidden by glamour, little more than shimmering smudges against the stone. Undetectable to passing humans.

“They’ve been at this for over an hour.” Dante’s voice was pitched low. “Whatever they’re asking for, Giovanni’s not budging.”

“No.” I studied their body language. Demarco had crossed his arms in a defensive posture, his scowl discernible even from here. Doria was waving his hands in the air between them, mouth moving. “Yup. They’re totally getting fucked over.”