Page 71 of A Madness of Crows
I stare at the notification, as the call cuts out.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t what appears.
The photo loads, opens.
The sound that tears from my throat is… agony. Anguish and fear and something new, as I set eyes on Alessia for the first time.
She’s laughing, sitting up against a pillow in a pretty green check sundress with white flowers on the collar. Her head is tipped back, rosebud lips open and smiling, showing the hint of a few teeth beneath. And her eyes – V’Arezzo eyes, unmistakably so.
Myeyes.
But her curls – those are undeniably Caterina’s curls, bronze and tight and sticking up wildly in every direction.
A perfect blend of us.Alessia.
A knife through the heart would hurt less than this moment.
But she looks happy. Cared for.Safe.
I forward the photo to Rocco, my heart in my mouth.Find out when this was taken.
His response comes only a few minutes later. I’m still staring at that photo, mapping every inch of my daughter’s face.
Two days ago.
Day 82 - Caterina
I’m floating.
Bemused, I stare down at myself, at my own body lying on the bed below. My eyes are open, wide and dark and staring, pupils blown.
When I blink, I’m back inside my own body. My hands reach up, patting myself down.
Strange.
“Tentazione.”
Dante looks tired. He leans down, his lips brushing against mine. “Are you feeling better?”
Frowning, I push myself up onto my elbows. “I – I think so.”
“Good.” He strides over to the wardrobe, undoing his shirt. “Are you well enough for the party?”
“What party?”
His face stretches, morphing into something unrecognizable. Something horrific.
And his mouth spreads wide, sharp teeth andfangsas he walks towards me.
I scramble back against the bedding as his limbs stretch, morph—
“You’re proving to be very disappointing, wife.”
I’m screaming. But there’s no sound, nothing except a roaring that echoes in my head, bouncing and growing until it snaps, breaks into pieces of ash that land on my face, my arms.
Bea. I stare at her.
“You never deserved her.” Her face splits, twisting and sneering and burning. “We did. It was your fault, Caterina.”
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