Page 28 of A Murder of Crows

As I look up, I hear the first bang.

One.

Then another.

Leo lifts his fist again, his eyes on me as he slams it against the table.

Again.

The girl next to him lifts her chin and does the same.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The whole table takes up the silent chant, each bang reverberating through the room. Dom gets to his feet, heading straight for me, every single one of the Crows going on alert as the men on either side of me tense.

And then, as if on cue, the banging stops.

The doors fly open.

And Giovanni walks in.

There’s nothing casual about his movements as he walks between the tables. He doesn’t spare a glance for his own table. No, his gaze is directed elsewhere.

Directly atme.

And there’s so much hatred in his indigo blue eyes, sheer hate and fuckingpainthat I nearly drop my gaze before I steel myself.

There is no room for my shame or guilt here. Not when a single wrong move could cost any of us our lives.

Later. Later, there will be time to self-flagellate. For now, I have to be a Crow.

TheCrow.

I am Caterina Corvo, and I am a Crow.

Dom moves into his path, blocking any view of me, and Gio stops, breathing heavily. Behind him, a young girl walks in, and Leo beckons her over to their table. She looks at me with an expression identical to her older brother as Leo wraps his arm around her shoulders protectively.

Rosa Fusco.

Silence again. “Get out of my way, Rossi.”

Gio’s tone is colder than I’ve ever heard it. As though he’s taken the fire that has fuelled him ever since I’ve known him and converted it to pure ice. It coats every word as Dom draws himself up. “You’re not touching her.”

“Domenico.” My voice is quiet, but Dom jerks at the soft admonishment as though I’ve struck him directly between the shoulder blades. “Let him pass.”

“Do as your master says, dog.” Scathing words. “This is an heir matter.”

For a moment, I don’t think Dom will move. His head twists around, and my gut clenches at the look in his eyes. His hands flex, stretching out, before he shifts to the side. “Touch her and I willkillyou, Fusco.”

“I invite you to try.”

My hands grip the table, and I force them to loosen. Beside me, I don’t think Luc or Dante are even breathing. Dante angleshimself towards me, and I shake my head minutely as Gio glides up the steps, stopping with the table between us.

He looks older, heavier, than when I last saw him. The grief of losing his sister weighs on him, showing in the black smudges under his eyes. His hair is longer now, still curled on top but shaved on the sides to try and keep it in check.