Page 116

Oxidation, I suppose.

The air stealing the life from what once pulsed with it.

Vito Ravelli's blood has dried on my hands now. A fine spray across my knuckles, spattered droplets that tell the story of what I've done. Of what I am.

Akiller.

I sit in Luca's private bathroom, perched on the edge of the massive tub filled with steaming water. Tonight, there are no beautiful smells, no rose petals to be seen as I stare at my hands like they belong to someone else.

Teresa scrubs my back with a soft sponge, humming some Italian melody I don't recognize.

"The water is getting cold,tesoro," she says, her voice gentle in a way it rarely is. "You should get in before it loses its heat."

I know she's right. I've been sitting here for... I don't even know how long. Time has lost meaning since I pulled that trigger.

"I killed him," I say, the words still strange on my tongue. Like I'm trying to absorb them into my new reality.

"Yes." Teresa doesn't offer platitudes or false comfort. Just acknowledgment. "You did what needed to be done."

She helps me rise, guiding me into the bath. The heat sears my skin, but I welcome the physical sensation. It's something real to anchor me as my mind threatens to drift into shock.

The water turns pink around me. It could be Vito's blood, or perhaps mine from cuts I don't remember getting. Whoever's it is, it's washing away as if it were that simple. As if one bath could cleanse what's happened tonight.

"Will it feel like this forever?" I ask, staring at the bloodied water.

Teresa's hand pauses on my shoulder. "The first kill is always the hardest," she says, resuming her gentle scrubbing. "It changes you. But not always in the ways you might expect."

"You sound like you know."

A tiny hint of a smile crosses her face. "I have been with the Ravelli family for a very long time, Bianca. You know by now, I have seen... many things."

The door opens, and Luca appears, silhouetted against the bedroom light. He's changed from his blood-soaked clothes into fresh ones—black, always black, like a perpetual funeral for the person he used to be.

"Leave us," he tells Teresa, who nods and slips past him without a word.

He approaches like I might spook, lowering himself to the edge of the tub where Teresa had been moments before. His eyes meet mine, searching, assessing.

"You saved my life," he says simply.

I shake my head. "I took his."

Luca's fingers trace the back of my hand where it rests on the edge of the tub. "Sometimes those are the same thing."

"He tried to turn you against me," I say, the memory of Vito's accusations still fresh despite everything else that had happened. "With those lies about Dante recruiting me."

Luca's eyes find mine. "I never believed it. Not for a second."

"But how could you be so sure? Those six months..." I trail off, remembering how convincing Vito's words had sounded.

Luca watches me carefully, his expression softening in a way I rarely see.

"Tell me. What really happened during that time, Bianca?"

I look down, steeling myself to share a truth I've kept hidden. "After my mother's condition worsened, I couldn't handle watching her forget me day by day. I took a leave from work, used my savings to travel to Scotland where her cousin lived."

His thumb continues tracing patterns on my skin, encouraging me to continue.

"I needed space to grieve the mother who was still alive but already gone," I say quietly. "When I returned to London, I met Marcus at a café. He seemed kind, stable—everything I thought I needed to feel whole again."