The Marchetti Pack land rose from the cliffs like a bone-white cathedral.
It was simply breathtaking and that was saying a lot considering she was raised in Conti Mansion.
Emilia had expected a forest, not a palace.
The Conti mansion was a tomb compared to this—every archway paved, every fountain choked with blood-red roses. It was truly a sight.
But beauty here was a blade. She saw it in the way the guards' hands lingered on their weapons, the way the omega maids walked without making any sound.
Beta Salvatore dragged her up the grand staircase, his grip bruising. "Enjoy the view. It'll be your prison soon enough."
She said nothing. All Emilia thought about was Paolo.
Paolo's face swam in her mind—his laugh as he taught her to shoot, the way his wedding ring had gleamed in his casket.
Salvatore's hands did that. Tore him apart.
She memorized the knife strapped to Salvatore's ankle, the one he must have used to carve Marchetti symbols into her brother's skin.
I'll take it. I'll bury it in his throat.
They stopped at double oak doors. Salvatore knocked once, his smirk sharpening. Emilia simply stared at him.
"What? Got something to say."
Emilia stared right back at him.
"He wasn't just Vittorio's son, you know" She said in a quiet voice. "He was my big brother and I loved him so much. He was Nissan's father and Mara's husband...you remember Mara, right? The twenty seven year old pregnant girl that you cut open and left to die by the roadside"
"So?" He had the guts to ask.
"So" Emilia moved closer to him "The first thing I am going to do as a Marchetti Luna is demand for your head on a platter and call it a wedding present. Go on" She gestured at the door "we don't want to keep the old man waiting"
Salvatore stared at her in disbelief. They said that Conti girls were docile, weak minded stock meant for marriage alliance, they clearly misjudged this one in front of him.
"Keep barking, meat. Let's see how many more dead meat Vittorio would like to bury"
He pushed the door open.
The study was a mausoleum of power.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves framed a massive desk, behind which sat Alpha Enzo Marchetti.
He was exactly what Emilia expected.
He was older than Vittorio, his silver hair swept back like a crown, but his eyes— sharp and gold-flecked—burned with the same dangerous fire.
"Emilia Conti." His voice was a rumble. "You look like your mother."
The air left her lungs. Mama.
Executed in a drive-by when Emilia was five. A Marchetti bullet, Vittorio claimed.
"You knew her?" Emilia's interest was peaked.
Her mother was a forbidden topic in Conti Mansion, her father said it hurt too much, nevermind the daughter who barely remembered her.
"We were… acquainted." Alpha Enzo steepled his fingers. A scar ran from his knuckle to wrist, the skin puckered and white. "Sit."
She remained standing. "No. Thank you"
He studied her, unblinking. "You've caused quite a stir, girl. Your father's men are tearing the city apart. For the boy who gave you that mark. We Marchetti men can be possessive, you know. We hate when other people eat our food. We hate it more when they mark our mate"
Luca.
Her chest tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about. But you are right. I'm not a virgin. I think you should pick a fight about it" there was a pause and then she added "...with Vittorio"
Enzo laughed. "Smart girl but I have a better suggestion"
Enzo opened a drawer, tossing a grainy photo onto the desk. Emilia's breath hitched—there she was, blurred and pixelated, pressed against Luca in the alley outside La Luna. His hand cupped her face; hers fisted in his jacket.
"Who is he?" Enzo asked softly.
"A stranger."
"Strangers don't risk Vittorio's wrath for a one-night stand." He leaned forward. "Tell me his name, and I'll ensure your wedding night is… painless."
Emilia's nails bit into her palms. "Go to hell."
For a heartbeat, fury darkened his face. Then he laughed—a deep, rattling sound.
"You have your mother's spine. She, too, told me to burn." He stood, towering over her. "Salvatore! Take her to the bridal suite. Double the guards."
Emilia watched as they dragged her away and toss her inside a bedroom...the bridal suite like they loved to call it, where human girls come to be mellowed out. A cage for their naughty desires and mating rituals.
Silk sheets, a balcony overlooking the sea, and a door bolted from the outside. A very pretty cage. But she wasn't sticking around for the naughty part.
She went to the window and tried to pry it open. It was bolted. She threw the vase on the table at the wall in frustration.
Emilia paced, her mind racing. Luca's in danger. Because of me.
A knock startled her. She pulled out the silver knife in her boot and held it tightly.
Come on in, Alpha Enzo. I will take your eyes before you kiss me.
But a maid entered instead, her head bowed, carrying a tray of kettle and espresso.
"Leave me" Emilia snapped.
The maid didn't move.
"I said—"
"Jesus, Conti. It's me."
Emilia froze. The maid lifted her head—Linda, her curls stuffed under a lace cap, her eyes lined with kohl.
"How did you—"
"Marched in with the pastry chef. Turns out the Marchettis hire their help based on looks, not brains and I might have used my powers to a enchant a guard or two. It will wear off soon." Lynda tossed her a bundle of black fabric. "Put this on. Now."
The maid's uniform smelled of lemons and gun oil.
"There's a service exit past the kitchens," Linda whispered, strapping a knife to Emilia's thigh. "We've got six minutes before all hell broke loose, Emi"
"Wait." Emilia gripped her arm. "I need to find Luca. My father's hunting him—"
"Are you crazy? We're not dying for some guy you banged!"
"He's not some guy! He's—"
What? A stranger who made me feel alive? A boy who left me with a rose and I gave him a death sentence.
"—innocent. He is innocent, Lyn. I won't let them kill him because he fucked me."