Page 18 of A Madness of Crows

Day 1 – Stefano

Iface my punishment before breakfast.

I’m ready and waiting as the two men walk down the hall, their eyes on me.

They pull me away from the door I stood guard at through the night, keeping my promise to Caterina that I would warn her if my uncle decided to go against my expectations and pay her a visit.

But as dawn cracks through the slitted window across from me, barely letting a flicker of light into the dim hall, it’s only his men who come for me. Shaking off their grip, I stride away from them.

I know the way well enough by now.

Salvatore is bleary-eyed and furious when they push me into his office. He ignores me for several minutes, letting me wait before he looks up. “Explain.”

Explain why I sent those coordinates to Giovanni Fusco.

My throat tightens.

Because she asked me to.

Because I owed her something.

Because it was the right thing to do.

I shrug. “Morelli owes me money.”

He glowers, assessing my words, but I stare back at him blankly as he stands, reaching for the drawer. “Fuckinguseless.”

The words roll off my back like drops of water. I don’t give a flying fuck about his insults, and he knows it. Nor his littlepunishments.

There is only one thing I care about.

“I hope it was worth it,nipote.”

Salvatore’s words echo through the open door, taunting me as I walk out without limping, my shirt clinging to my back as the blood soaks through.

I cut a rapid path through the house to her door, but word has already gotten out. The guards drop their hands to their guns, the warning in their eyes as they block my way.

Not today.

The shower burns the cuts on my back as I wash off the grime from my night, changing into another black shirt and trousers before heading back to the breakfast room.

My presence is not optional.

Salvatore barely glances at me over his morning paper. A coffee sits in front of him, along with his usual breakfast.

A man of habit. My back twinges at the thought.

The swelling on Cecile’s face is far worse today. She sweeps in with her usual greeting, but the bluster that normally accompanies it is lacking, somewhat ruined by the two black eyes adorning her face.

Caterina follows her, escorted by the men who came for me this morning. Her eyes take in the table laid out for breakfast, Salvatore and I sat at opposite ends.

He studies her, before nodding to the seat beside him. The men escort her to it, waiting until she sits before they secure her arms to the chair using the straps already waiting. Cecile settles in on his other side with a simper that he ignores in favor of watching Caterina.

His eyes linger over the pastel pink silk dress Cecile has managed to wrestle her into, the minimal make-up on her face. The raised, swollen skin from her branding.

My fingers clench as I take it in.

Cat settles back before she speaks, her fingers flexing beneath the straps. “Worried I might stab you with a butter knife, Asante? Probably wise.”