Page 115 of Crown of Blood

I lunge for the weapon, but Vito reaches it first, fingers closing around the grip with surprising strength for a dying man.

He raises it, not toward me, but toward Bianca.

"Your mother died protecting Volkov secrets," he gasps, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. "Now your wife will die for the same mistake."

I throw myself forward, but I know I won't reach him in time. The gun steadies in his hand, finger tightening on the trigger—

A shot rings out.

Vito's body jerks, a perfect red hole appearing in the center of his forehead. He slumps forward, dead before he hits the floor.

I turn to find Bianca standing with Vito's backup weapon clutched in her trembling hands, smoke still curling from the barrel. Her eyes are wide, face pale, but her grip remains steady.

She just killed the Don.

My wife. My queen. The mother of my child.

Killed the Don with his own weapon.

I cross to her, taking the gun from her fingers before gathering her against my chest. She doesn't cry, doesn't break, just presses her face into my shirt and breathes.

Vito's body lies twisted among the wreckage of the oxygen tank that kept him alive. Generations of Ravelli power, reduced to a broken old man on a stone floor.

Behind us, Alessio appears in the doorway, weapon drawn, assessing the situation with a single sweep of his eyes.

"Sir?"

"Get a cleanup team," I order, not looking away from my father's body. "No one enters or leaves the estate."

Alessio nods once, already backing away to carry out my commands.

In my arms, Bianca stirs, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "Luca, I didn't know. About any of it. About my father, about Dante—"

I silence her with a finger against her lips. "I know."

And I do. Whatever manipulation Vito was attempting, whatever connection Dante might have orchestrated, the truth shines in her eyes. In the way she's looked at me from the beginning.

"What happens now?" she whispers.

I press my forehead to hers, one hand sliding to rest against her stomach where our child grows. Ravelli and Volkov blood combined.

"Now," I say, voice hardening with purpose as I stare at my father's body, "we find Dante."

Vito's final words echo in the chamber. Volkov secrets. Elena's protection. Pieces of a puzzle still incomplete, still threatening everything I've built.

But as I hold Bianca against me, her heartbeat steady beneath my palm, I know one truth with absolute certainty:

Whatever comes next, we face it together.

As king and queen.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bianca

BlooddriesdifferentlythanI expected.

It starts bright, almost vibrant when fresh. A slick, wet crimson that catches light and reflects it back. Then it darkens as it dries, turning rust-colored, almost black at the edges.

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