“Welcome back, princess.” Domenico bared his teeth in what no one would mistake as a smile. A quick survey of my surroundings confirmed my fears. Once again, I was in the Shadow Realm, chained. It was the same small stone chamber, the same alcove with manacles.
This time, at least, I had a slip on and wouldn’t need a shadow robe. It was the only positive bit of luck. They’d struck while Wrath was asleep, and it would likely be hours before he woke up and found my soul gone. Given his extreme reaction before, they better hope he remained sleeping. I didn’t bother testing the chains. I already felt that same bite of magic, locking my powers away. I glanced at my captor, hating the smug look on his face.
“I assume this means my sister would like to talk.”
“Maybe I just wanted to see if you still bore my mark.” The werewolf raked his gaze over me, pausing on my chest. It wasn’t sexual in nature, but I didn’t like it, either. “Did you know, a wound from an alpha can sometimes cause a feeling similar to what animals experience when they go into heat? Especially if that alpha infused his bite with a bit of magic and intent.”
“I wasn’t wounded by you, I was clawed.”
“And who sank his teeth into that wound? Not your demon,” he said, his tone mocking. “Have any animallike urges, lately? Perhaps you wished to get on all fours.”
“No. And you’re disgusting.”
He laughed, and it raised the hair along my arms. “Don’t worry. I didn’t actually infuse you with an alpha mark. And I have no desire to touch anything tainted by demon cock.”
I refrained from pointing out that my twin had also slept with demons. And vampires. And whoever else ignited her desires, as was perfectly customary here. “Where is Vittoria?”
“She’s bringing a guest. You would have known sooner, before we were interrupted by your mother.” He casually leaned against the wall in the alcove, entirely too close for my liking. “This promises to be quite the evening. Maybe if you’re very nice, I’ll unchain you.”
“How did Vittoria escape our mother?”
Domenico’s smile was all teeth again. “You didn’t really think the Crone would hold her for long, did you? She had other tasks to accomplish, and once you were safely away, she left.”
I was spared from further conversation by the sound of approaching footsteps. Two sets. One pair was measured, unhurried; the other sounded as if they were being dragged. Trepidation rolled down my spine. Whoever else was coming was also doing so against their will.
Vittoria strode into the chamber and shoved her “guest” forward.
The older woman stumbled into the candlelight, and fear became an arrow that was shot straight into my heart.
“Nonna!” I struggled against my chains. My grandmother—who wasn’t truly my grandmother—was bruised and badly beaten. Her bottom lip was swollen as if she’d been hit with either a fist or hard object. Dried blood caked her temple. No matter what she might have done, seeing her hurt made something violent wake up inside me. “Let her go, Vittoria.”
My sister flung her onto the floor, then glanced at me. “There. I let her go. Happy now?”
I turned my attention on Nonna, and she finally looked at me in return. Sadness and… worry… marred her features. She took in my night clothing, the SEMPER TVVS tattoo on my finger and the other tattoo on my forearm, my chains, and still, she cringed back.
As if I were the monster in the room and my sister hadn’t either beaten her or had her beaten and dragged to the Shadow Realm.
I swallowed the rising lump in my throat. “Nonna. It’s all right. It’s me.”
Vittoria watched my reaction with a detached look. Then she kicked our grandmother in the side, forcing her to curl in on herself, to gasp for breath. I shouted for mercy, but no one seemed to notice. Nonna’s lips started moving, and I realized it wasn’t a spell she was whispering, she was praying. Her words washed over me; she was begging the ultimate divine goddess above for protection. From us. Something twisted in my center, painful and unpleasant.
“You didn’t want to believe me earlier”—Vitoria thrust her arm out in accusation—“so here is your proof. She’s not rushing to your aid. Nor is she praying for you, though you’re the one in chains. She is only out for herself. Tigers don’t change their stripes, and she is not the little house cat she pretends to be. Have you tried leaving this realm lately? Run into any difficulty, dear sister? I imagine you did, because I found her hexing the gates.”
I released a shaky breath. Nonna stopped praying and met my gaze again. This time a spark lit her dark eyes. Defiance. Vittoria was correct. My grandmother wasn’t sorry, nor would she deign to apologize to an enemy. And that’s exactly what she thought of us. Of me.
What had been left of my stolen heart broke.
“Why?” I asked, my voice quiet, brittle. “Was anything of our childhood real?”
For the briefest moment, Nonna’s expression softened. The grandmother I’d known emerged, kind yet fierce. Protective and loving. Here was the woman who’d comforted me when my twin “died.” Here was the rock in my world, the steady force anchoring me during the worst storm I’d been through. Or so I’d thought. Here was one of the people who’d betrayed me. And yet I couldn’t find it in my soul to hate her. Even now. Which meant their spell-lock had succeeded. I might still be a goddess underneath the curse, but I now felt as mortals did.
“I’m sorry, bambina.” Nonna’s voice warbled. “We did what needed to be done.”
Tears I’d managed to hold back burst out in a torrent. They streamed down my face, the salt coating my lips. It was true. Every wicked, dark thing Vittoria claimed.
I drew in a ragged breath, trying desperately to get myself under control. I needed to understand how someone who’d loved me as their own grandchild could betray me. I needed to hear her admit she’d murdered others for their hearts. Goddess above.
I couldn’t begin to process that part. “You used the darkest of magic to bind us. How could you resort to human sacrifice?”
My grandmother, who now felt like a ruthless stranger to me, thought it over for a moment.
“Wartime is rife with sacrifice. Humans understand that just like witches.” Nonna said it without emotion, as if she were reciting ingredients for a spell or recipe. “Two lives for the whole coven… it’s what the elders agreed upon.”
My stomach twisted in knots. I felt gutted. There was no remorse, no sadness, only cold justification for evil. “Who did the coven murder for their hearts?”
Vittoria stepped in, her lavender eyes alight with dark glee. “She’s jumping to the end of the tale when, truly, you must hear it from the beginning.” She glared down at Nonna. “Set the stage properly. Or your use to me this evening has run its course. Tell her about Sofia. Your friend.”
“Sofia Santorini?” I asked, already dreading what I was about to discover. “What did you do to her?”