Chapter 26

Chapter

Twenty-Six

" W hat the hell have you done, Luigi?" The fury in my voice normally causes the strongest of men to shake with fear.

Luigi's face pales, and his eyes dart nervously around the room, but he tries to bluff his way out of whatever the fuck this is. "I don't know what the hell you mean! You did the deal. What did I do?" He makes an attempt to sound casual, but the stench of tension radiates off him. He's a cornered animal, and it shows.

"What's going on?" Luca asks, stepping forward to stand just behind Luigi's left side. Nico moves to Luigi's right, positioning himself like a shadow. We've surrounded him, cutting off any escape. Luigi's phone buzzes loudly in the silence, but he doesn't even glance at it. He just stares at me, mouth agape, sweat beading on his forehead.

"What have you done, Luigi?" I keep my voice deceptively soft, but simmering anger twists my gut into knots. I already know the answer—I can see it in his eyes, the guilt and fear that's been eating away at him all night. He knows our secret. That's why he couldn't look at me before. "You know we're vampires, don't you?" I say, my voice low and dangerous.

Luigi's mouth opens to deny it, to feign innocence, but the mask slips the moment his phone dings again, the sound like a death knell. He drops the act. "Yeah, I know you fuckers are demons. Pretending to be human, pretending to be la famiglia. You're all disgusting."

I tilt my head slightly, my senses on high alert. I can hear movement outside—fast, too fast for humans. It's the kind of speed only vampires have. "What the hell have you done?" I growl, the rage bubbling up inside me.

"What I needed to do. I always do what I need to," Luigi says defiantly, but his voice wavers.

The heavy doors of the Duomo creak open, and the sound echoes like a grim reminder of the past. A familiar figure steps inside. Even in the dim candlelight, I recognize the face instantly—Leon Miller, the turned vampire thug who took over Berlin. His eyes gleam with a predatory hunger, and a sick smile curls on his lips.

"So, this is how it is," I say, my voice cold and filled with contempt.

What? Luca's voice buzzes in my head, tinged with confusion and anger.

That's Miller—the turned vampire who took Berlin, I inform him, my thoughts racing.

Fucking hell, Nico snarls as he and Luca shift, positioning themselves to survey the entire Duomo. We all know we're already surrounded. The thick, metallic scent of blood fills the air. My stomach churns as the realization hits—my men are dead. They've slaughtered them like animals.

"You teamed up with this scum," I snarl at Luigi, my voice thick with disgust. "That's how they knew where I'd be to shoot me and where my brothers would be to gas them. You've put Pippa's life at risk. She's been like a daughter to you." And he hurt Mia. For that alone he will die in the most agonizing way.

Luigi gives a small, dismissive shrug. "That was unavoidable. She's fine."

"Is she?" I snap. "What do you get out of this, Luigi?" I sense Miller and his men closing in, their footsteps echoing in the vast, hollow space of the Duomo. The frescoes on the walls—saints and demons locked in eternal battle—seem to watch us, their painted eyes condemning. Then it hits me like a punch to the gut. "Immortality or as close as you can get. You think they're going to save your wife. That's what they promised, didn't they? Eternal life for you and Louisa, in exchange for the lives of me and my brothers."

Luigi doesn't respond, but the truth is etched into his posture. His shoulders are tense, his body rigid with resolve and desperation. He would betray everything for Louisa.

"Luigi, you realize you'll become a demon too. Are you ready for that?" I ask, my voice cold.

"To save Louisa, I'm ready to deal with anything," Luigi snaps, taking a step back to make room for Miller.

"Well, I have news for you, Luigi. Miller isn't going to turn you. It doesn't work like that. To him you're just a loose end—someone who could talk. He's going to kill you."

Luigi glances nervously at Miller, who stands back and crosses his arms over his chest, watching with detached amusement. Miller's men have surrounded us completely, their stench thick and suffocating. I count ten turned vampires, all of whom reek of death and decay.

"He's going to keep his word. We made a deal. There's more to it than you know," Luigi says, raising his chin defiantly, though his voice wavers.

"I highly doubt that." I sneer. "But it doesn't matter because you're not getting turned."

Luigi's eyes narrow, rage flickering in his gaze. "I fucking am, and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it," he snarls, stepping forward.

"Except this." My voice is deadly calm as I lash out, my nails extending into razor-sharp claws. In one swift motion, I rip out his throat, blood spraying across the aisle and splattering the ancient stone floor. Luigi's lifeless body crumples, landing in the pool of his own blood. Not the slow agonizing death I'd been thinking for him. But the bloodlust was too overwhelming to take his life at leisure.

I lift my gaze to Miller, my eyes blazing. "I don't tolerate traitors."

Miller grins, revealing his fangs, a twisted smirk that sends a shiver through the room. "I've heard that about you. And you were right—Luigi was never going to be turned. "

"So, what does Berlin want with Northern Italy?" I ask, trying to piece together the motive. "They're far apart—not exactly a smart move to consolidate power."

Miller's smile is cold, calculating. "I don't want Northern Italy. These men do." He gestures to the circle of vampires, and one of them steps forward. His face is vaguely familiar—dark eyes, sharp features. I can sense the danger radiating off him.

Albanians , Nico growls, recognizing him immediately.

The pieces click into place, and my blood runs cold. "Ah, now I understand. The Albanians want my family's seat of power in Venezia. They want to be one of the Fondatori kings and take over as the head of the Valdici famiglia in Northern Italy. King of two worlds. That's the plan, isn't it?"

"It's the smartest move," Miller admits, his tone casual, as if we're discussing the weather. "You've done an impressive job building your empire. Now seems like a good time to step in. Not that I'm doing the stepping, of course."

"Of course not. You're just facilitating," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Exactly." Miller's eyes glint with amusement.

Every muscle in my body tenses as I resist the urge to lunge for Miller's throat. He's baiting me, and I know it. He'll see any attack coming. The dread in my brothers is palpable, mirroring the fear that twists in my stomach. We're outnumbered, outgunned, and they have the upper hand because of the damn potion they poisoned us with.

"You waited until the deal with the ‘Ndrangheta was finalized," I say, the pieces slowly coming together. "You have bigger plans, don't you?"

Miller's smile is as cold as ice. "Oh, yes. We have big plans."

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but it's not going to go the way you think. You won't be the Fondatori king for Venezia."

"No, I won't," Miller agrees, his voice unnervingly calm. He points to another vampire approaching from the back of the Duomo. The man is tall and broad-shouldered, his bald head gleaming under the flickering candlelight. "He will." Miller's grin widens as the man steps up beside him. "Meet Ardit Marku. He's got the ambition. I'm perfectly satisfied where I am."

"You used your poison on Heinrich Rainier and his children, didn't you?" Luca demands, his voice full of anger and disbelief. "It's the only thing that makes sense. How else could a bunch of garbage like you possibly defeat a real vampire family? There's no way if it was a fair fight."

Miller's expression turns smug. "It was easier than you think."

I turn to Miller, my rage simmering hotly under my skin. "You killed Russo and planted him in that field with my fingerprint to frame me."

Miller nods, a smug grin spreading across his face. "We had to test the potion and make sure the poison would weaken you. It has to be tailored to each family line. What better place than prison to make that happen? Unfortunately, you didn't stay there, so we had to come up with an alternate plan. I thought the drive-by was a nice touch. Marku did well."

The urge to kill him boils through me, fierce and overwhelming. He's responsible for all of this—responsible for Mia getting hurt, for every piece of this twisted game. I swear I will see this creature dead.

"What's your play here? Kill us and then take control?" I demand, my voice sharp. "You know you need to kill my father too."

"Yes," Marku says, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "But he's already on his way here, so that shouldn't be too difficult."

A knot of dread tightens in my gut, but I keep my expression neutral, trying to buy time. If my father's coming, he might have the antidote. I need to stall. "To take control, you'll need the Emerald Dagger too."

Marku shrugs, dismissive. "That won't be hard. Once we kill you, we'll go to Venezia and take it. Your people will hand it over once we show them your father's head. They'll do it to save their own lives."

"You assume they'll be frightened of you, and you also assume the dagger is in Venice. Those are big assumptions."

Marku's eyes narrow. "We have it on good authority. "

Miller's glare cuts toward Marku, and he shakes his head slightly, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face.

A spy. They have a spy inside our organization—both the vampire one and the human. I grit my teeth, vowing that when I find them, I'll make them suffer. "Your spy might have misled you. We're not the only members of the Valdici family. Our cousins share our seat of power. You'd have to kill them too."

Marku glances at Miller, confusion etching his brow. "Is this true?"

Miller scoffs with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They've got cousins in the U.S. and Canada, but the dagger is here. I'm certain."

"But those cousins are still part of the family. You'll have to kill them too," I say, my voice firm. "Our kingdom has two centers of power. You'd need to kill every one of us to take over. And don't forget—you still need the dagger."

Marku's face twists into a scowl, but he doesn't back down. "I don't care. I'll find the dagger and kill whoever I need to. Your power will be mine."

With a sudden, fluid motion, Marku pulls out a gun. The three of us leap in different directions, moving as fast as our weakened bodies will allow. But we're outnumbered—three against ten. There's nowhere to hide in this ancient church, only cold stone and echoes.

Luca is hit first. I feel the impact as if the bullet pierces my own flesh. A sharp, visceral pain rips through me as I watch him go down. My heart clenches. I can't let my brothers die here. They came to support me. I won't let it cost them their lives.

I grab Luca, dragging him behind the altar, where the shadows offer some small semblance of cover. He looks up at me, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "The bullets are poisoned. I can feel it coursing through me. My power is fading."

I pop up, firing at two of the turned vampires. They fall, but I know they won't stay down for long. My bullets aren't poisoned, and even if they were, if the poison is tailored to specific families, they wouldn't be effective on these monsters. They'll be back in the fight before I know it. I scan the room, but I've lost sight of Nico. The roar of gunfire tells me he's at the back of the church, holding his ground. I can only hope he finds a way out.

"Luca, we need to make it to that door." I point to a small door in the corner, a narrow escape route that leads to the outside. "We can get to the car from there."

Luca tries to nod, but his movements are sluggish. His eyes are dull, his strength slipping away. "Too weak…to run," he mumbles, each word a struggle.

I fire off more shots, but the vampires keep coming, relentless. Worse, they're getting back up, their wounds healing faster than I can put them down. I reach out with my mind, desperate. Father? I call, hoping he's close enough to hear. I don't want him too close—close enough to be killed—but close enough to know we need help.

Father? I try again as bullets tear through the fresco behind me, chipping away at centuries of art. Still nothing. Panic creeps in, clawing at my insides.

Luca grabs my arm, his grip weak. A vampire lunges at us from the right, and I shoot him. He falls, but I know it's only a matter of moments before he rises again. I take a quick look around the altar—there are fewer enemies now, but at least four still have us pinned down. I check my gun: only two bullets left. Not nearly enough.

I hear footsteps closing in, and I spring up, firing both shots. They hit Marku square in the chest, and he staggers back, temporarily out of commission. But his last shot catches me in the side, the bullet grazing my ribs. The pain is sharp but manageable; it's the poison that's the real threat. I feel it seeping into my bloodstream, draining my strength. This is worse than before—much worse.

I slump behind the altar, my vision blurring as my power fades. Even turning my head to look at Luca takes all my effort. He tries to move but can barely manage.

Luca, Nico, I'm sorry. I brought you here, I say, the guilt heavy in my chest.

We would go with you to the ends of the earth , Nico's voice comes through, firm and resolute.

We're brothers, and that's what we do, Luca says, his breath labored, each inhale a struggle. T ell Father it was me who broke the lamp in his office.

Despite everything, I can't help but laugh. So does Nico. Of all the things to confess at a moment like this, that's what Luca chooses. It's not even in my top ten things I expected to hear, but in this hell, it's enough to remind me that we're still here, still fighting, no matter what comes next.

I am here. My father's voice cuts through the noise in my head, sharp and clear.

Be careful, Father. They have bullets laced with poison and, I'm guessing, swords, as well, to finish the job. Don't come into the Duomo. I risk a glance around the altar and spot Marku struggling to his feet. He's healing faster than I expected. All the vampires are back on their feet like an unkillable horde rising from the grave. Even with my father here, we're no match for them. My strength is draining away, slipping through my fingers like sand. I glance at Luca; his breathing is shallow; each rasp a desperate fight for air. We're both as weak as kittens, shadows of our former selves.

Gattina . My kitten. Mia's face flashes in my mind, and a wave of regret crashes over me. I would have given anything for more time with her. My heart aches with a painful, erratic rhythm, each beat a reminder of everything I stand to lose. Mia, my perfect match—smart, ambitious, bold, everything I didn't realize I needed until it was too late. I've committed the greatest sin a vampire can—I've fallen in love with my human wife.

And now, I won't even live to savor that sin.

A loud crash reverberates from the back of the church, metal against stone, followed by a pained grunt. Nico? I reach out, desperate, but there's no response. I try to move, but my limbs feel like they're weighed down with lead, refusing to obey. Mustering every ounce of strength, I force myself to peek around the side of the altar once more. My heart stutters as I see my father and Nico fighting their way up the aisle. They're locked in combat with the other vampires, but they're not just holding their ground—they're killing them. The poison-laced bullets seem to have no effect on my father, his movements are fluid and deadly.

One of the Albanians charges with his sword drawn; eyes blazing with murderous intent. My father moves like lightning, sidestepping the attack and striking the vampire in the chest with a swift, brutal blow. He wrenches the sword from the Albanian's grasp, and with one smooth, merciless arc, he swings it through the air. The vampire's head separates from his body, rolling down the aisle and coming to a stop on the opposite side of the altar, eyes still wide in shock.

"Lorenzo," my father says, his voice calm but urgent as he crouches beside me. His presence is a lifeline in the chaos. "Stay strong." He pulls a needle from his coat, and before I can react, he plunges it into my chest, injecting something straight into my heart.

Pain explodes inside me, my heart constricting violently. It feels like a thousand stings, burning through my veins, searing every nerve with white-hot agony. I convulse, every muscle seizing as the liquid courses through my body, and then—nothing. The pain evaporates, replaced by a cold, crushing emptiness. The world around me fades; the sounds of battle receding until there is only silence, vast and absolute.

Darkness swallows me whole, and for a moment, there is nothing but stillness. This must be death.