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Her mother cared so little she’d barely say goodbye, her brother was setting up for a meeting while the Fratellanza gathered nearby, and nowDantewas making deals with one of Ivini’s men in a dark alley? Secrets and more secrets, piling upon each other.

She had nowhere to go. And she wasnotleaving this alley until she got answers fromsomeone.

Dante’s back was turned when she stepped out into the open. She stared him down, willing him to face her, to cower with shame or explain what in Dea’s name was going on.

Unaware of her presence, he drew his arm back and punched the wall hard enough to shatter every bone in his hand.

A violent tremor ran through him, and he punched again. And again. And again. Each blow came faster, harder, bits of plaster falling to the ground with every impact.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

His hand. He was going to destroy it, if he hadn’t already.

She stepped forward. To stop him. Or yell at him. She didn’t know.

Her foot crunched on a broken bottle.

Dante turned so fast she didn’t have time to speak.

His eyes flashed, brilliant and terrifying with rage, and twin fires tore through her abdomen.

Her lips parted on a gasp. She looked down at his fists, clutching the hilts of his knives, pressed against her.

Blood dripped between his fingers.

With a ragged gasp, Dante pulled the knives free. They clattered to the ground.

Her protector. Her killer.

Alessa breathed his name as her legs gave out.

Twenty-Six

Piove sul bagnato.

When it rains, it pours.

DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 19

Dante caught her, sinking to his knees to slow her fall.

Why?

Betrayal and pain reverberated inside her as the world shrank to the cradle of his arms.

She searched his face for answers but found only horror.

Dante’s lips worked soundlessly, forming the words,No, no, no.

Don’t ever sneak up on me.

He’d warned her. More than once.

She hadn’t listened.

No glorious, heroic death for her, after all.

Dante lowered her to the ground, bracing her neck so she barely felt her head meet stone.