Chapter 8: Retribution

I jerked violently awake with a gasp, heart racing. Wildly I looked around, expecting that masked face to loom out of the darkness again. But I was in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Instinctively I raised my hands to my neck, intact and unharmed. It had only been a terrifyingly vivid nightmare.

As reality filtered slowly back, I realized Marco sat slumped in a chair just a few feet away, snoring softly. His broad chest was wrapped in bandages peeking through his undone shirt. Was he injured protecting me from...?

I bolted upright, memories flooding in. The explosion that overturned our coach. Masked assassins descending. A knife blade rushing toward my throat.

No. That part wasn't real. Though the rest of the ambush certainly had been. We'd barely escaped with our lives, it seemed. But to what end?

Groaning with effort, I slipped from the bed to rouse Marco. His eyes snapped open at my touch, instantly alert. He, too, almost reached to check my throat.

"No harm came to you, miss," he rumbled. "Though it was a near thing in that bloody chaos. I put two bullets in your attacker myself before he fled." His fist clenched. "If I find that demon-spawn Luca, I'll gladly finish the job."

Relief poured through me to have escaped death by inches yet again thanks to Marco. And rage swiftly followed at the unhinged lengths Luca was prepared to go to strike back at me. We both would be looking over our shoulders until he was stopped permanently.

Once I was steady on my feet, Marco escorted me downstairs to meet our host. We had taken shelter at a friend of the Don's—Boris, a barrel-chested bear of a man currently serving us all brandy by the fire.

He pressed a fatherly kiss to my forehead when I entered. "Thank the saints," he rumbled in thickly accented English. "We feared you lost, little one."

Over the crackling flames, Marco related the harrowing details of our ambush and narrow escape. Boris' eyes smoldered. When Marco described the assassin's mask, he spat an oath.

"Grigori. He is the best contracted killer in these parts. And the most expensive." Boris met my gaze grimly. "Seems your fallen 'prince' spares no expense to end you, lady."

I shivered, drawing my shawl tighter. Grigori's leering mask would haunt me always, whether or not our paths crossed again. And the threat of Luca's vengeance would loom like a spectre until he was found and restrained...or killed. Suddenly I ached fiercely for the security of the Don's fortified estate.

Seeing my distress, Boris laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "All will be well, little flower. We are safe here, and your Don prepares his response to this insult as we speak."

I lifted worried eyes to his. "What will he do?" I wasn't certain I wished to know. When provoked, the Don's wrath could be apocalyptic.

The big man shrugged. "He will call for blood. It is our way." His mustache twitched. "Men have killed for far less than an attempt on his favored daughter's life."

I swallowed hard. Even sheltering days away, we were still ensnared like fish in the same net. And Luca's vicious attack had just tightened the Don's coils around us all. How much longer before we choked?

Soon a coded message arrived to summon us home, borne by a trusted courier who also bore more blankets and provisions. Boris saw us off the next dawn with stoic farewells. My nerves only grew more frayed the closer we drew to that imposing estate again.

We had nearly reached the outer gates when riders suddenly emerged from the tree line, pistols and blades glinting. My heart seized—more assassins? Marco drew his own weapon, shielding me.

But the men lowered their arms at our approach, calling out a greeting. Don Bianchi's guard. We were safely back in viper's nest.

Word of the ambush had clearly spread. Guards and staff alike watched with narrowed, suspicious eyes as we made our way upstairs to bathe and change out of road stained clothes. But not even Marco could glean much from their closed expressions. Likely the Don was keeping plans close to his chest.

Shortly after, I was finishing dressing when a knock preceded Isabella sweeping in, tight lipped. "The Don requests you in his study. Now." She clasped her hands before her, uncharacteristically wringing them. "Mind your best manners, my lady."

My own nerves returning tenfold, I hastened to follow her down. Had the Don called me here to finally accuse me as the catalyst of all recent violence? But Isabella had never used my formal title before either. Something had shifted during our absence.

This time when I entered the imposing study, the Don was not alone. A dozen of his highest ranking soldiers stood ranged around the room as well. I faltered just over the threshold as every eye turned my way. For a suspended moment, I was certain my life was forfeit.

Then wonder of wonders, as one the hardened men dipped into graceful bows. Bewildered, I could only stare wide-eyed until a sharp laugh drew my gaze to the Don.

He rounded his desk, smiling through his beard for perhaps the first time since I'd arrived. He enfolded me in a brief, awkward embrace before holding me at arm's length. Was that actual warmth shining in his usually flinty eyes?

"Welcome home, daughter. I trust Boris looked after you well?" At my mute nod, he squeezed my shoulders. "Good, good. We have much to discuss."

Turning, he guided me gently to sit in a leather wingback before the fireplace. The guards had straightened but their stares now seemed...respectful. I struggled not to gape. What had changed?

Settling into his own imposing chair, the Don templed his fingers before him. "First, let me apologize. Clearly you've borne the brunt of consequences not your own making since joining this family. I allowed that snake Luca too much trust, and you nearly paid the ultimate price."

His steel gray eyes pinned me. "That ends now. After this latest treachery, I have accepted you as my true heir." Murmurs rippled around us from the ring of guards. "You shall take your rightful place as my successor."

I sat stunned, pulse racing. Me, heir to all this? It seemed unreal after so many weeks still scrabbling for acceptance. What did it mean for my tenuous place here? And my chances of surviving Luca and his vengeance?

When I found my voice, it came out a trembling whisper. "You honor me deeply. But Luca—"

The Don's fist came down like a hammer blow. "That rabid mongrel is no son of mine! I have banished him on pain of death." He leaned toward me, jaw set. "As of this moment, you are my sole descendant. You will help me destroy the snake that dare attack your family."

I took a fortifying breath. My answer here would irrevocably seal my fate.

"It seems blood calls for blood." I lifted my chin, letting ice color my gaze. "Then we shall bleed him dry, Father."

A feral smile lit the Don's face. He lifted his glass in salute. "To my fearsome daughter—our retribution will be legendary."

As the men cheered loudly around us, I allowed a small satisfied smile in return. With the Don's formidable forces now turned to the hunt, Luca's days were surely numbered. Justice would be served, one way or another. And I would be here to witness the light leave his eyes.

Over the next week, the manor became virtually unrecognizable. The Don constantly conducted meetings behind closed doors. Men came and went at all hours on undisclosed errands. Fresh weapons and ammunition disappeared into the cellars. The very air hummed with intensity.

When not in council, Don accompanied me everywhere now playing the doting father. He even insisted I attend strategy meetings, where I held my tongue and learned the art of patience in revenge. Soon Luca would make his move, and we must be ready.

Night brought me less peace. Despite Marco keeping guard outside my chamber door each evening, sleep remained elusive. My dreams still echoed with clashing steel and the phantom scrape of a blade under my chin.

But the coming morning finally brought the confrontation we had agonized over. I awoke to shouting in the halls just after dawn. Scrambling from my bed, I threw on a robe and rushed out to see what caused the commotion so early.

Marco stood halfway down the corridor gripping the shirt front of a man I didn't recognize. Several guards had weapons trained on the stranger as well. Marco looked up grimly as I approached.