Page 11 of Crown of Blood

I've heard whispers in the hotel halls. Seen headlines about bodies found in the river. The Ravelli family owns London's shadows - and no one dares cross them.

But when he stood there, blade against my skin, listening to me talk about Marcus... I swear something shifted in that dark gaze of his.

His eyes changed. Not softer, no. Those darkened depths will never be soft.

But theywerefocused.

Like I was the only person who existed in that moment.

"Your friend," he says now, breaking the silence in the car. "The one who betrayed you. What was her name?"

"Madeline?"

His fingers tighten on my wrist. Not painful, but... possessive.

"And where does Madeline live?"

"Why?"

"Because by tomorrow morning, she won't."

My breath catches as I turn my glare on him. And fuck, he means it. I hear it in his voice. That's the same tone he used when ordering that man's death through the wall.

Cold. Final. Absolutely chilling and ruthless.

"No."

His head turns, gray eyes piercing through me. "No?"

"I don't want her dead."

I don't. Not really. Despite everything, I don't want her blood on my hands. Onhishands. For me. She can have Marcus. She can have my life if she wants it. It wasn't that fucking good anyway.

A smile curves Luca's mouth. It's a dangerous, appreciative snarl that makes my skin flush with a shiver. It's like I've just passed some test I didn't know I was taking.

"Interesting choice." His thumb strokes my pulse point. "Most would jump at the chance for revenge."

"I'm not most people."

"No," he agrees, his voice dropping lower. "You're not. That's precisely why you're here."

The robe gaps at my thighs, my damp clothes bundled uselessly in my lap. He's draped his wool coat over my shoulders - not for warmth, but ownership. Like hanging a flag over conquered territory.

"I need clothes." My voice scrapes raw. "Let me stop at my flat-"

"No."

One word, flat as a blade.

"But everything I own is there. My passport, my-"

"You own nothing now." His thumb traces my pulse point. "Everything you need, I'll provide. Everything you want, you ask for."

"You can't just-"

"I can. I did." His grip tightens, a warning. "That life is done. You chose this one."

"I didn't choose anything," I whisper, but the words feel hollow.

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