Page 34 of Unholy Night

Later, after she's properly thanked me for her Christmas presents and I've returned the favor with my mouth until she screamed loud enough to echo off the marble, we stand together at the windows. She's wearing the silk robe again, and I've got my arms around her from behind, holding her against my chest. The city below is quiet, Christmas morning keeping most people inside with their families.

We are with ours, in our own way.

"The family wants us at dinner tonight," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her temple where her dark hair is still damp from our exertions. "Official family Christmas."

"With Leonardo?"

"With everyone."

"He needs someone," she says, gazing north toward the Rosetti manor, where Leonardo lives with his siblings.

I scoff.

She turns in my arms, looks up at me with those eyes that have seen every dark piece of me and still look at me like I'm something worth saving. "Maybe every monster deserves a chance at redemption. We got ours."

"Leonardo won't get redemption. He'll get sold off to the highest bidder. He's too close to the center of the family to marry for love. His wedding will be for power, not to somebody he chooses."

She sighs, looking sad. "And not to somebody who chooses him."

I tilt her chin up, staring into those eyes. "Not everybody gets a love like ours." I kiss her softly, brimming with gratitude.

"Speaking of redemption," she says against my lips, "your mother invited us to Rome for New Year's."

I pull back slightly. "How do you—"

"You left your phone open after you called her yesterday. First conversation in twenty years, and you didn't think I'd notice you were different after?" She traces my jaw with one finger. "She sounds lovely. Eager to meet the woman who got her son to finally break his silence."

She turns back to look outside, leaning her back against my chest. The snow continues falling, covering the city in white, hiding all the blood and sins beneath frozen water. In the glass, I can see our reflection, the killer and his corrupted lawyer, wrapped together like we're the only solid thing in a world of shadows.

She starts humming another Christmas carol. The melody vibrates through her chest into mine, sacred and profane at once. The prosecutor is dead. And what's risen in her place makes my blood sing with dark promises that will echo through every Christmas to come.