Page 125 of Crown of Blood

"Yours," I agree, covering his hand with mine. "Just as you are mine."

His eyes flash with hunger, with a promise for later. "Are you ready, little rabbit? Once we walk through those doors, there's no going back. Every criminal organization in Europe will know you as mine. As the mother of my heir. As the woman who stands at my side."

"Or maybe the woman who killed your father," I add quietly.

His fingers catch my chin, tilting my face up to his.

"No. The woman who saved me," he corrects. "Tonight belongs to us, Bianca. Our empire begins now."

The Grand Ballroom of the Ravelli estate hasn't been used in fifteen years—not since Elena's funeral reception.

Now it gleams with renewed opulence, crystal chandeliers casting golden light over marble floors polished to mirror-brightness. Black and gold drapery adorns the walls, and the Ravelli crest dominates the space behind the raised dais where two throne-like chairs await.

Hundreds of guests fill the room, a sea of dark suits and evening gowns that represent the elite of Europe's underworld. Crime families from Italy, Russia, Ireland, and beyond, gathered to witness the official coronation of a new Don.

Luca's hand rests at my back as we pause at the entrance. The room falls silent, all eyes turning to us. I lift my chin, allowing them to see not the hotel maid I once was, but the queen I've become.

Alessio appears at Luca's side, head inclined respectfully. "Everyone's in position, sir. Security is tight."

"And our special guests?" Luca asks, eyes scanning the crowd.

"Front and center, as requested."

"Good. Let's begin."

We move through the crowd, which parts before us like water. I feel the weight of hundreds of assessments—some curious, some wary, all calculating what our rise to power means for them.

Near the front, I spot Dmitri Volkov, silver-haired and regal in a suit that probably costs more than my mother's entire care facility. His eyes catch mine, something like recognition flickering in their cold depths. Beside him stands Demyan, his hungry gaze sliding over me with insulting familiarity.

"Steady," Luca murmurs against my ear, sensing my tension. "Remember who you are."

Mrs. Ravelli. Luca's wife. Mother of his child. Killer of his enemies.

I am all of these things now, and more.

We ascend the dais, turning to face the assembled crime lords and their entourages. Nico stands to Luca's right, Alessio to my left, both vigilant in their protection of the new regime.

The ceremony begins with Giacomo Conte stepping forward, a black velvet cushion held before him. Upon it rests a ceremonial dagger—the blade that has drawn blood from every Ravelli Don since the family's founding in Sicily three centuries ago.

Luca takes the dagger, its jeweled hilt catching the light. Without hesitation, he draws the blade across his palm, a line of crimson welling instantly against his skin.

"I, Luciano Marco Ravelli, claim the throne by blood and by right," his voice carries to every corner of the vast room. "I pledge to honor our traditions, protect our territories, and expand our influence. Those loyal to the Ravelli family will prosper under my rule. Those who stand against us..."

He lets the threat hang unfinished, more powerful in its silence.

The blade passes to Nico, who repeats the ritual, slicing his own palm before pressing it to Luca's in a bloody handshake that symbolizes his loyalty to the new Don.

Then, unexpectedly, Luca turns to me, offering the dagger hilt-first.

A murmur ripples through the crowd.

This is not traditional. Teresa has gone over everything that is expected of me today. I know that women do not typically participate in this part of the ceremony.

But I am not a typical woman. And Luca is not a typical Don.

I take the dagger without hesitation, drawing it firmly across my palm. The sting is nothing compared to what I've endured these past months.

I extend my bloodied hand to Luca, who takes it in his, our wounds pressed together.

---