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I make a few calls, being the good girl I know I should be. The sensible Seer, the dutiful girlfriend. Luca, Donatella, even Aidan.

I go straight to voicemail with all of them. Not a single person picks up. I could try Luca on our private mind-line, but I know he’s busy. And I’m tired of it all now. Tired of looking for answers I never seem to find, of living my life with both eyes open, always looking over my shoulder. Tired of the atrocities my grandfather has inflicted on the world, the damage he has done both to me and to those I love. I hate him, and I promised Veronica Lombardi that I would kill him. How am I going to do that if I’m too scared to face him? Luca has his own shit to deal with. I have mine. I don’t want to be anybody’s queen but my own, and I’ll never be able to rest until this man, this blood relation of mine, is dead.

I think it over for thirty more seconds. Then I walk up those steps.

Chapter 28

Rosa

I’m not sure what my plan is. If I’ll knock on the door, break a window, simply do some surveillance before sneaking in some other way.

In the end, I walk right in, because the door is already open a crack. I gulp as the smell hits me, thicker in here, away from the fresh air and all the competing scents. It makes me gag a little—his cologne. His hair pomade. And something more, something that makes no sense.

I’m in a hallway, stake in my hand as I walk through the dimly lit space. A grand staircase winds its way upwards and doors lead off into other rooms. There are framed portraits on the walls and the kind of chintzy floral wallpaper beloved by grandmas the world over. A clock is ticking heavily, and somewhere, a tap is dripping. It’s basically creepy as fuck.

“I’m through here, Rosa,” a familiar voice calls out. My amulet warms slightly but doesn’t flare into full-on life. I am at risk but not in immediate danger. “I was wondering when you might finally visit your old nonnino.”

It’s him. It’s really him. The man who has made my life a misery, who has been responsible for killing so many innocents. He is here, in this house, with me.

I find him in a large lounge at the end of the hallway. He’s sitting in an armchair, his phone next to him, smiling up at me. He’s relaxed, not even an ounce of fear on him. He knows how dangerous I can be, and he knows how much I hate him. Why is he smiling? Why is he so calm? And what is that fucking smell?

“One moment, my dear,” my grandfather says, holding his hand up. “One matter of business to take care of …” He picks up his phone, presses a few keys, then lays it to one side.

“I’m not your dear, and you are not my nonnino. I’m here to kill you, old man.”

I push down on the tiny scrap of loyalty that still lives inside me, the tiny voice that reminds me we share the same blood. That he is part of the same family, the same chain of DNA that connects me to Serena, to Angie, to my parents.

All of whom he killed, I remind myself. Family is about a lot more than DNA.

He smiles up at me and again seems totally unconcerned to see the fury on my face. I narrow my eyes, listen intently. Is there someone else here? Guards? People he assumes will keep him safe? He is no physical match for me, not at his age, not with my skill. Or does he still not believe that I will go through with it—that I will be unable to cross this room, stab him in his heart?

If so, he is very much mistaken.

“My my, so dramatic,” he replies, laughing, finally getting to his feet. He gazes over at me, his head tilted to one side. His hair is thick and white as ever, his skin still old and creased. He looks the same as he did the last time I saw him, but something is very different.

“You look as though you have questions, Rosa. Ask away.”

“Why do you have a house in Chicago?”

He blinks. I’ve surprised him. That feels good.

“How do you know about that? Has your baby brother found a way to snoop into my life again? I shall have to take care of that boy … I don’t need him anymore. Or you, now I come to think of it. You were too selfish and too stupid to see that your duty lay with your family, with producing the next Capelli Seer. But as ever, I have a backup plan. I don’t think I’m going to tell you about it though. My little secret. I have lots of those.”

He’s infuriating, and I decide that I don’t care what secrets he has. They can all die with him. He will not hurt me; he will not hurt Pietro. He will not hurt Luca.

“Are you still planning to kill me?” he asks, as casually as if he’s asking what time it is. I nod grimly, my stake in my hand.

“I see. Well, before you do that, please, pass on my thanks to your, ah, what do I call him? Is he your husband, or haven’t you done anything as old-fashioned as marry? Is it still the great love match? I think it is. A perfect romance, a thing of beauty.”

“It’s none of your fucking business is what it is.”

“True,” he replies, shrugging. “But thank him anyway. That was quite the show he put on tonight. Wolves, shifters, killing all three Cosca Dons. I couldn’t quite believe it. He did my job for me, taking them out like that.”

I shake my head. He’s just a deluded old man, I tell myself. He always did love the sound of his own voice. He’s like one of those villains in movies who has to give a speech before he’s killed. I won’t give him the satisfaction of bearing witness to it.

I charge across the room, determined that I will not let another single word escape his evil lips. Except he moves so fast he’s a blur, dodging my extended arm, grabbing hold of me with absurd strength. Throwing me to the floor with power I know he never had.

I lie dazed on the floral carpet, my ears ringing from the body slam, blinking my eyes to clear them.