Page 65 of Crown of Blood

Just a dangerous gleam that looks too much like pride.

Soon, the Bentley purrs away from Westminster, London's night lights painting shadows across Bianca's face. She hasn't spoken since we left the underground chamber, her silence weighted with thoughts I can almost hear forming.

"Ask away," I tell her, watching her profile against the passing streetlights. "Whatever you're thinking. Ask it."

She turns to face me, eyes bright in the dim car interior. "Why did you bring me tonight? Really?"

"I told you. It was time you saw who you've married." I reach for her hand, bringing it to my lips. "You wanted to come, no?"

Before she can respond, I take her index finger between my lips, sucking it clean of the blood that stained it when I helped her into the car. Arben's blood, transferred from my hand to hers.

She shivers but doesn't pull away.

"Is that all I am to you?" she asks, voice steady despite the pulse I can see racing in her throat. "An accessory to intimidate your enemies?"

"No,little rabbit." I release her finger, but keep hold of her hand. "You're the reason I need to remind men like Arben why they fear me. Why they should fearus."

She stares at me, something shifting behind those eyes that have haunted me since that first night in the hotel.

"You didn't have to cut him," she says finally.

"Yes, I did." I trace her sweet lips with my free hand. "In our world, respect is written in blood, loyalty purchased with fear. If I showed weakness, if I accepted his excuses, it wouldn't just be Arben who tested me. It would be everyone who heard about it."

"Including your brothers," she concludes, seeing too clearly as always.

"Especiallymy brothers." I watch as the car turns off the main road, heading away from the Ravelli estate. "Dante thinks you make me soft. Tonight, the message will spread. The message that Luca Ravelli is still the man who collects his debts in flesh."

She looks out the window, noticing the change in direction. "Where are we going?"

"We have one more stop."

The car slows to a halt before a modern building set back from the street, its windows lit despite the late hour.Oakwood Care Centerreads the discreet sign by the entrance.

Bianca's breath catches. "Luca? What are we—"

I watch the emotions chase across her face. "You said you needed air. I thought perhaps you needed this, too."

Confusion furrows her brow. "Why would you—"

"Because you're mine," I interrupt, the possessive words at odds with the gentleness of my touch as I brush a strand of hair from her face. "Your pain is mine. Your needs are mine. Even the ghost of a mother you will not visit."

A tear slips down her cheek, surprising us both.

"Thank you," she whispers.

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead in a gesture too tender for the man who just sliced open a grown men's palm.

"You wear the crown now,cara mia," I murmur against her skin. "It comes soaked in blood. But that doesn't mean you have to lose the things that matter."

I open the car door, stepping out into the cool London night before extending my hand to her.

"Come. Your mother is waiting."

As Bianca takes my hand, I see it in her eyes—that dangerous mix of fear and desire, rebellion and surrender. The realization that the monster who holds her captive might also set her free.

And as I guide her toward the entrance, my blood-stained fingers laced with hers, I know I'm walking a knife's edge. Because the more I give her, the more power she has over me. The more she matters, the more vulnerable I become.

But for tonight, for this moment, I'll let her believe this kindness comes without price.

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