Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Gianna

A gentle hand on my shoulder roused me from my slumber. "Gianna, Gianna, it's time to wake up," a soft voice coaxed, the sound slowly penetrating the haze of sleep that still fogged my mind.

I stirred, my eyelids fluttering open as I took in my surroundings. The unfamiliar room came into focus, and I pushed myself up on the couch. Frowning, I scanned the area, a strange sense of emptiness settling in my chest. The last thing I remembered was Dimitri watching over me. Disappointment swelled inside me at his disappearing act. I thought he'd stay until I woke up. "Where's Dimitri?" My voice was thick with sleep and an emotion I couldn't quite place.

Louise shrugged, her expression nonchalant as she held two steaming mugs of coffee. The rich aroma wafted toward me, and my stomach growled in response. "No idea," she replied, offering me one of the cups. "Want some coffee?"

I reached gratefully for the mug that was loaded with cream, my fingers curling around the warm ceramic, but the sadness that swept over me was surprisingly intense. It settled in the pit of my stomach like a heavy stone, and I found myself struggling to maintain a neutral expression.

Louise chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched me. "Oh, Gianna dear. You look like you're disappointed," she teased, her tone light and playful.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I ducked my head to my mug, taking a sip of the coffee to hide my face. The hot liquid scalded my tongue and I nearly choked, sputtering as I tried to regain my composure. "No, I'm not," I managed, shaking my head vehemently. Who was I kidding? The lie sounded weak even to me.

I could feel Louise's teasing gaze on me, and I studiously avoided making eye contact, focusing instead on the swirling steam rising from my mug. My heart raced in my chest. Why was Dimitri's absence affecting me so deeply? That was a question I wasn't sure I was ready to answer, even privately to myself.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my fingers tightening around the warm mug as I quickly changed the subject. "What time is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual despite the lingering unease in my gut.

"Almost eight," Louise replied, glancing at her watch before taking a sip of her own coffee after carefully blowing on it.

A yawn escaped my lips, and I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the satisfying pop of my joints. "Where's Augustus?"

Louise settled into the loveseat across from me, the same spot where Dimitri had been keeping watch over me all night. The memory sent a strange flutter through my chest, and I had to force myself to focus on Louise's words. "He left early," she explained, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her mug. "The high priestess summoned him."

I took another sip of my coffee. "Oh? Anything I should know about?" I asked, a flicker of curiosity mingling with a vague sense of unease.

Louise pulled her legs up, crossing them underneath her as she settled into a more comfortable position. She shook her head, her dark curls bouncing softly with the movement. "I don't think so. I'm sure Augustus will tell us when he gets back."

I nodded, my teeth worrying my bottom lip as I debated whether to bring up my conversation with Dimitri. His words hung heavily in my mind, and I couldn't shake the need to find out if he had been lying. "Dimitri told me something last night," I began, my voice hesitant as I gauged Louise's reaction. "I want to know if it was true."

Louise raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution. She leaned back, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against the side of her mug. "Okayyy, but I'm not an expert on him," she warned. "He's pretty cagey at times."

I swallowed hard, my heart rate picking up as I prepared to delve into the secrets Dimitri had shared. The air felt thick with tension, and I could sense Louise's apprehension.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, my heart pounding in my chest as I forced the words out. "He told me that Petar used to abuse Valentin. Is it true?" My voice wavered slightly, giving away the mixture of apprehension and concern that churned in my gut.

Louise's gaze dropped to her cup of coffee, her fingers tightening around the mug. She was silent for a moment, and I could see the tension in her shoulders, the slight furrow of her brow. "Yes, it is," she finally admitted, her voice heavy with the truth. "I wouldn't normally believe everything Dimitri says, but that much is true."

My stomach twisted, a wave of nausea washing over me. "But why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Louise sighed, her eyes closing briefly, steeling herself for the revelation. "Because Petar's…he's not Valentin's father," she said, her words hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

I blinked, my mind reeling as I tried to process this new information. "But that makes no sense. Valentin's younger than Dimitri, isn't he?" I asked, my brow furrowed in confusion.

Louise nodded, her fingers absently tracing the pattern on her mug. "Yes, his mother had an affair. Rumor has it that Valentin's father was a dark demon." She spoke the words matter-of-factly, but I could still hear the undercurrent of unease in her tone.

A gasp tore from my lips, my eyes widening in shock. "Really?" I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribcage as the implications of this revelation crashed over me like a tidal wave.

Dark demons were the enemy—universally feared and reviled in the supernatural world. Not even the powerful Santi family, with all their influence, would accept one in their ranks. I had never met Valentin, but if this were true, he would be treated like a pariah, hunted by both humans and supernatural beings alike. His life as he knew it would be over.

"Yes. I don't know which one, but I think he was powerful," Louise continued, her gaze distant as if lost in thought. "Supposedly, Petar wanted to exploit this power, but Valentin renounced it. From what I heard, he was worse than Cinderella's wicked stepmother."

Anger flared within me, hot and fierce, and I scowled, my hands clenching into fists. "So, Petar punished Valentin for who his father was?" I asked, my voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Louise met my gaze, her eyes filled with a helpless sadness. She shook her head, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth. "That's what Rose told me. Valentin doesn't like to talk about it. He only found out in the last couple of years that Petar wasn't his father."

I leaned back, my mind spinning as I tried to make sense of it all. The horror of Valentin's abuse…the shocking revelation of his true parentage…Petar's cruelty…it all swirled together, stirring up a dizzying maelstrom of emotions within me. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My heart ached for Valentin, for the pain and betrayal he must have endured, and a fierce protectiveness toward both him and his brother surged within me, mingling with the anger and disgust I felt toward Petar.

Memories of my father washed over me, bittersweet and tinged with longing. He had been such a loving, devoted parent. In the tumultuous times of the 1600s, when danger lurked around every corner for young women like me, Papa had been my steadfast protector. His watchful eye and strong presence had kept the unsavory characters at bay, shielding me from those who would have taken advantage of my youth and naivety.

It was from Papa that Angelo inherited his fierce sense of family loyalty. I could still remember the way Papa's eyes would light up with pride whenever he spoke of our family's legacy, of the importance of standing together against the world's threats.

A familiar ache bloomed in my chest as I recalled his final days, ravaged by the merciless plague that had swept through our town. Even in his suffering, he had thought of us first, his love a beacon that guided our family through those dark times.

If Father had hurt me like Petra had Valentin, Angelo's protective mode would have gone into full blown I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass mode. My hands clenched involuntarily at the thought, a surge of anger warming my blood. I could almost feel the ghost of Angelo's comforting hand on my shoulder, hear the low, dangerous tone his voice would take.

A knot formed in my stomach as I realized Dimitri possessed that same philosophy about keeping his family safe. The intensity in his eyes when he spoke of protection was eerily familiar, a mirror of Angelo's fierce devotion. My throat tightened, a mix of gratitude and unease settling in the pit of my stomach. To be loved so fiercely was both a comfort and a terrifying responsibility.

I stood abruptly, pacing the room. How could my brother have allowed someone like Petar into the family? Angelo had everyone thoroughly vetted before they were accepted. There had to be something that Angelo wasn't telling me. I was so tired of being left out in the dark.

I was a vampire nearly four hundred years old, and I wasn't the kind of girl to hide in the shadows. Angelo should know better than that. He knew he was messing with the wrong woman.