Page 39 of Brutal Crown

One symbol in particular looks very familiar. I try to recall where I’ve seen it.

My body freezes as I realize: The symbol is identical to the one engraved on the inside of my father’s ring.

My fingers tremble as I pull the ring from the chain around my neck where it’s always hidden, feeling the cold metal against my skin. I’ve never taken it off, not since the night he died.With shaky fingers, I press it into the hollow of the shelf. It fits perfectly.

Blood rushes through my ears as I twist the ring. A soft click echoes in the silence around me. I startle and stumble back a bit when the shelf begins to shift on its own. I watch, mesmerized, as it creates an entrance to another hidden compartment behind the shelf.

Exhaling a shaky breath, I step inside, where I see three old books, wrapped in faded leather, neatly stacked on top of each other.

On top of the books is an old, black envelope sealed with crimson wax. My pulse quickens. I hesitate, terrified of whatever this is. But a part of my brain compels me forward. I was supposed to find this. This is all happening for a vital reason.

The air around me thickens with dread as I reach for the books.

The first one is handwritten in Latin. The pages are covered in chilling words.Blood, binding, silence, sacrifice. I flip through, my stomach turning as I see strange diagrams of serpents eating their own tails and trees with roots that bleed into skulls.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, dropping the book.

I’m terrified to continue, yet I pick up the second book. I must finish what I’ve started.

The second one is a ledger. Ciphered into it are symbols and numbers I don’t immediately recognize. The dates stretch back… centuries ago. As I flip through the pages, I notice some names repeated all through the book.

Romanos, Morettis, De Lucas, Altieris, Vescovis, Salvatores.

My mind races as I skim through, my thoughts racing. Romanos? Morettis? Does this mean their relationship as families is deeper than just friendship? Does the upcoming marriage between the two families mean something else?

But the third book… It’s what captures me the most. It looks like a journal, and I recognize the handwriting.

My father’s journal.

Some of the pages are no longer legible, faded by time, but what strikes me is the strange drawing at the end of every entry. It is a blackened hand, traced in what looks like old blood. Or maybe it’s black ink. I don’t know.

I continue to turn the pages slowly, seeing the same drawing over and over again on almost every page. My breath catches when a piece of paper slips from between the pages and falls to the ground.

I bend down to pick it up, and the words written on it make my blood run cold.

‘In silence we rule. In blood we bind. In darkness we thrive.’

This wasn’t just about hidden mafia dealings or hidden ledgers. My father had stumbled across something ancient. Something monstrous. And now I’ve done the same.

La Mano Nera.

That’s what I heard Dante and Olga say the other day, like it meant something important.

La Mano…My Italian is almost nonexistent, but“mano”—that sounds like hand, right? And“nera”…black?

The Black Hand?

Is it a name? A code? A group? Or something worse?

What the hell was my father mixed up in?

My heart jumps into my throat at the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

Shit.

I quickly put everything back into the compartment in a rush, trying to remember the exact order. Even though no one else should know about this spot—Ihave the key—I still double-check the lock, twisting it back into place.

Then I hide my ring in its usual place. I’ll come back some other time.