Page 75 of A Murder of Crows

But even as I sit, alone at the dais the next morning, I still battle with the weight of my decision. The Crows cast glances at me from our table, at the empty plate in front of me. It’s Vincent who approaches me in the end. It takes a moment for me to pull my eyes away from my careful watch over one particular table, to slide them towards him. “Yes?”

He hesitates, and I don’t blame him. I needed every piece of armor this morning, took my time building up the image of Caterina Corvo, ready to present to the world. The Corvo heir is here, displayed in the heaviness of my make-up, the straight, sleek ponytail of my straightened hair high on my head. In my vibrant, scarlet blazer, matching my heels. My knives and guns are on full display.

I am dressed for war, and they can read the signs.

“Do you want me to get you something? With Dom out, I mean.”

“No,” I say softly. “Thank you. I’m not hungry this morning, Vincent.”

He waits. “Are you… sure?”

He is not asking about food.

My eyes follow Rosa Fusco, tracking her movements as she smiles at Leo, acknowledging his look of concern. She answers his question, before he turns to speak to some of the Fusco men. As she cradles her coffee, her arms tucked in tightly, her face wreathed in shadows when nobody else is looking.

This is the line.

I watch as she casts a glance down the table, quietly sliding out of her seat. Leaving the dining hall, with her hands tucked under her arms. Alone.

And I make the decision.

“Go,” I say quietly. “Now, Vincent.”

He nods, once.

And then he’s gone.

And as I sit there, the nausea clawing up my throat, I pray that the cost will be worth it. That it won’t be everything that has ever mattered to me.

***

It does not take long.

By lunchtime, the entire campus is buzzing with gossip. People turn to look at me as I make my way back towards the dining hall. At what I hold in my hand.

He reaches me before I even open the doors.

Hands wrench me back, and then he slams me against the door, so hard that I taste the iron of my own blood in my mouth. A cold hand grips my throat. “Where is she?”

When I don’t answer, he smacks my head back against the door again until I see stars instead of the gray skies above. “Where thefuckis she?”

There’s a ruckus, and my neck is released, the air rushing back into my throat as I cough. I straighten, massaging the skin, and Giovanni shouts with fury as they hold him back.

Luciano. Dante. Both of them here, cursing, fighting to stop Gio from going for my throat again.

“Thefuck, Fusco?”

Dante looks between Gio and I. “Cat – what the hell is going on?”

“Where is my fucking sister?”

Giovanni Fusco does not shout. Hescreamsit, screams as if his voice could reach the heavens.

I can already tell by the devastated look on his face that my father will get his wish.

I want him broken.

I am, after all, my father’s daughter. A Corvo.