Page 136 of Brutal Crown

He meets my eyes.

“They believe you’re dead, Lia. And as long as they believe that, they won’t come looking. It bought us time—to hide you, protect the baby, and figure out what the hell to do next.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me because of this,” Dante adds. “I still have a long way to go to earn that and make up for all my wrongdoings. The only thing I want from you is for you to stay alive. Francesco is coming for you, whether he thinks you’re dead or not. I guess he got that trait from me,” he chuckles humorlessly. “He will burn through every man, wall, and law to reach you. And he’s willing to do it all alone.”

Silence settles between us, thick and heavy. Then I swallow, hand still on my belly.

“I’m scared,” I admit shakily.

He nods in understanding. “As long as I breathe, no one will touch you or your child.”

Dante rises to his feet.

“I’ll send someone in to clean your wounds. Get some rest. You’ll need your strength soon.”

Then they both turn and walk away, leaving me in the silence of my own thoughts.

36

FRANCESCO

The abandoned observatory sits forgotten on the cliffside, above the sea churning below. It’s been decommissioned for years—scrapped for funding, gutted of most of its telescopes and equipment. Now only the skeleton remains. A domed roof now half-collapsed, some cracks in the glass walls and windows, and a few abandoned telescopes scattered across the room. But the foundation is solid, as it has been for many years.

But I didn’t pick this place for any of that. I chose it because it is a discreet location, with no cameras or prying eyes. It is perfect.

But more than privacy, I needed leverage. I needed to face them without witnesses—unshielded, unguarded—so they’d know I came not in fear, but with clear purpose. Maybe I can end this without spilling more blood.

If not, then this meeting becomes something else entirely.

A declaration of war.

I stand in the upper gallery, my back facing the broken wall of windows, where the sea crashes in the distance. From this height, the world looks far away. Small. And for once, I feel bigger than everything. I feel like I have everything figured out.

It took my contacts days to track the real identity of each Elder from each family. For days, I studied their faces through the few grainy pictures I could access.

And then I sent out the anonymous letters to each of their addresses, cloaked in false urgency and not-so-thinly-veiled threats. They all agreed to meet me here. They have no idea it’s me. I am the snitch, and I am about to bring them to their knees.

Anticipation with a mix of nerves works its way up my spine. I adjust the cuffs of my charcoal suit, catching my reflection in the window beside me. I was deliberate with everything, down to how I look. Not too sharp to be threatening. Not too casual to appear naive. I need them to believe I’m here to help them.

A loud crash of thunder splits the air. The storm has been circling all day, darkening the clouds and sending harsh winds that send a cold chill up my spine.

My attention zones outside when I spot a distant flash of light. Below, headlights slash through the darkness. Three black cars crawl up the winding gravel path like serpents. I watch from the glass windows as they arrive, each vehicle climbing the twisted road from a different direction, arriving at the entrance of the observatory.

Ermanno Vescovi emerges from the first car, his thin frame upright despite age. His silver hair is combed back, and a slim black cane glints in his hand. He’s slower than I imagined, but his eyes are sharp, darting across the compound in quiet suspicion.

Alfonso Altieri is next, stepping out with a limp exaggerated by his weight. Gold rings gleam on every finger. He dabs sweat from his forehead despite the cold, and glances at his watch with a scowl. Arrogant. Overdressed. Like he believes money can shield him from anything.

And finally, Giulio Salvatore. The only one who doesn’t hesitate in his steps. He steps out of his car and shuts the doorwithout looking back, as if nothing in the world could surprise him. Every movement he makes is controlled. I watch him light a cigarette and take in the ruined building with barely veiled contempt.

They enter separately, not seeing each other at first, but the moment they cross toward the entrance of the observatory, they spot each other and freeze.

I watch it unfold.

Ermanno Vescovi’s brow tightens as he sees Giulio walking toward him, then twists into a look of cold calculation when he spots Alfonso.

None of them expected to be called by the same person, and certainly not together. For a moment, they just stand there under the brewing storm, frozen by the absurdity.

A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips.