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“What’s her deal anyhow?” Rosa asks. “Shouldn’t she, like, hate you because you killed her dad?”

“It’s more complicated than that. She was loyal to him, she supported him, but she also knew what he was. Disagreed with him. He sent her away, exiled her.”

Rosa makes a hmmmm noise and curls her lip. “Yeah. So, I heard. The sooner she fucks off back to Toronto, the better for all of us. I don’t like the way she looks at you, and I still want to kill her.”

I smile. She really is adorable. “You know she can hear you, yes?”

Rosa winks at me. “Yeah. Of course I do. Now, off you go. Go do your big-boss-vampire shit. I’ll see you later.”

She walks away, and I experience a sudden sense of loss and pain. A fear that I might never see her again. It comes from nowhere and strikes me so strongly, it feels like a stake to the heart. I chase her again, block her path. “Where are you going?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Back to Brooklyn, I guess. Unless you need me?”

Is that hope in her voice? Does she want me to say yes, to involve her in the murky and dangerous world of our politics? The next few days are going to be fraught with risk. The challenges I’ve been receiving will feel like nothing compared to what lies ahead. I have chosen to try and find balance in a world that is populated by the unhinged, the crazed, the fundamentally flawed. She is no innocent, but she’s also a distraction. I force myself to accept that. If she’s with me while I am negotiating, then I’ll be worried about her. I will have half an eye on Rosa, when I need both eyes open and focused.

If she goes back to Brooklyn, with all its defenses, with Moonface, then at least I know she’ll be safe. Maybe I can send Donna back there to be with her. Afterwards, we can sort this all out. I will make it up to her. Once our position at court is secure, we will have time.

I kiss her once more, burying that flash of fear I felt earlier. “No, bellissima, Go home. Rest. I will see you later.”

She nods and disappears into the woods. I miss her the moment she is gone.

Chapter 27

Rosa

Ispend an hour walking through the park alone. I need the time, the space, the head clearing.

I know that Luca loves me. I know I love him. But now, for the first time since we’ve been together, I am wondering if that’s enough.

I’m not happy with being shut out of his plans. I’m not happy with Sophia being here, though I acknowledge some of that is just a touch of the green-eyed monster. I’m not happy with all the uncertainty.

Caterina d’Argento told me to come back to him, because he needed me, but what for? Right now, it doesn’t feel like he needs me at all. And what about the visions that Minnie had of the world being on fire? Was that just related to what happened in Santa Lucia? Was it the way the world would have looked if we hadn’t killed Vincenzo and ended his dangerous alliance with Tomasso? Or is it something more?

What if, a tiny part of me whispers, Luca himself is the threat? I feel disloyal even thinking it and force myself to drag it out into the light. I poke at it with a mental stick, looking at it from all angles. I’m relieved when I come to the conclusion it doesn’t feel right. Luca might be changing, but he’s still the same at heart—I have to believe that—and I know that his heart is so much bigger, so much purer, than he ever gives himself credit for.

He saved Pietro’s life when he wanted to kill him. He gave Yvonne a second chance after she disobeyed him. He let Roberto the hostage live and recover when it might have been simpler to end him. He is tender beyond belief with Freya, and I know he’s sickened at the abuse that went on in Vincenzo’s court. Riddled with guilt that he didn’t stop it earlier.

Guilt is not the kind of emotion displayed by violent psychopaths who want to rule the world. I’m sure my grandfather has never suffered a twinge of guilt in his entire life, despite his vile actions. He’s just not capable of it. Luca is different. He can be violent, but it’s never for selfish reasons. He genuinely wants things to be better; he’s had that drive since he became Don. All his plans for a new garden, for community, for a therapist—these are all signs of a man seeking balance. A man influenced by his witch heritage as well as his vamp instincts. He wants the future to be better than the past.

Killing the Dons was as much part of that as it was revenge for the fate of his parents. He knew their time had come, and he was the only one strong enough to end them.

“He’s a good man,” I say out loud, as I follow one of the winding paths around the lake. A fox’s eyes glint at me in the darkness, and I wonder if it agrees. I wonder if it’s even a fox.

I sniff the air, reminding myself to stay alert. The kings are dead and long live the king—but that doesn’t mean all threat has gone. I still need to be cautious. How embarrassing would it be to get mugged?

It’s just a fox, I decide, as it scurries away. Its smell is earthy, natural. But behind that, the most subtle of scents, is something else. It’s one I’ve noticed on and off all night, but it’s always been subsumed by the other stronger flavors. Wolves have a tendency to wipe everything else out.

I walk on but continue to sample the air around me. My hand goes to my amulet, but it gives me no clues. Vampire, I think, which maybe isn’t surprising tonight, when New York is full of them. It doesn’t mean they’re an enemy, and my amulet doesn’t think I’m in danger. But still. There’s something odd about it, something that isn’t totally right.

I follow the aroma, losing it a few times but always managing to hook on it again. Is it actually a vamp? I’m not a hundred percent positive. Maybe it’s a leprechaun. Donna swears she saw one in here before, even though they’re supposed to be extinct.

Eventually, I find myself at the very edge of the park, out on one of the quiet streets of the Upper East Side. In the day, it’s always busy with tourists visiting the museums and galleries, but now? Almost deserted. I wander along into a small residential area, the well-kept road lined with grand town houses. Old money, the kind of subtle wealth that comes with chauffeurs and homes on Martha’s Vineyard.

Most of them are in darkness, drapes closed, but one … one catches my eye. The scent I’ve been following leads right to its steps, and I stand and stare, trying to figure out what I’m smelling. It’s vaguely familiar, but nothing I can quite identify.

I probably shouldn’t be out here, alone like this. I know it’s reckless, that I should call Donatella. But I don’t. She’s back at court with Luca and all his new buddies by now, and I just can’t quite get over myself. I’m still hurting, still figuring shit out. I still need to be alone.

My phone buzzes, and my heart bumps a little. Is it him?