Page 86 of Crown of Blood

Before she can answer, the door bursts open again. Nico stands in the threshold, normally composed features tight with tension.

"Luca. She's gone," he announces swiftly.

"What?" The temperature in the room seems to drop. "Who?"

"Your wife." Nico steps further into the office, tablet in hand. "Security cameras show her leaving the property three hours ago. Alone. No escort."

"And you're only fucking telling me now?!" The rage surges instantly, blood rushing in my ears like a tsunami. "Show me that!"

Nico hands over the tablet, its screen displaying grainy footage of Bianca slipping through the service entrance, a cap pulled low over her face. Smart enough to avoid the main gates, where guards would have stopped her. Also clever enough to time her escape during the shift change.

But not wise enough to understand the danger she's put herself in.

"Has she called?" I demand, already calculating routes, potential destinations, threats that might be circling my defiant little queen.

Nico shakes his head. "Her phone is here. She left it on her nightstand."

"Deliberately," I mutter, mind racing. "She knew we'd track it."

I turn back to Teresa, whose face has gone pale with understanding. "The care facility. She's gone to see her mother."

"Without permission. Without protection." My voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "After everything I've told her about the Volkovs watching. After everything that happened at that dinner."

My phone rings sharply, an unknown number flashing on the screen. I snatch it up, blood already boiling.

"Speak."

"Hello, brother." Dante's voice slithers through the connection like oil on water. "I thought you might be… looking for something? Or should I say...someone?"

My grip on the phone tightens until the case creaks. "If you touch her—"

"Relax, Luca." His laugh grates against my nerves. "I'm just the messenger. Thought you'd want to know your little civilian bride was spotted taking a cab across town. Alone." A pause laden with threat. "In case you've forgotten, there are people who'd pay dearly to get their hands on the new Mrs. Ravelli."

"Where is she, Dante?"

"Last I heard? Heading toward that care facility where her mother wastes away. Shame if someone got to her before you did." Another pause. "Tick tock, brother."

The line goes dead. I'm already moving, shoving the phone into my pocket as I stride toward the door.

"Mobilize security," I bark at Nico. "Full team. Marina Sutton's care facility. Now."

I drive like a man possessed, weaving through London traffic with recklessness that would get a regular civilian pulled over. My favorite Aston Martin responds to the lightest touch, an extension of my rage as I calculate the risks Bianca has taken.

Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl.

If the Volkovs know where Marina is—and they must, given the photo Dmitri showed us—they'll have men watching the facility. If Dante, given his careless actions lately, knows Bianca's location, others might as well.

Every minute she spends unprotected is another opportunity for my enemies to strike at me through her.

And beyond the danger, there's the betrayal. The deliberate defiance after I made myself absolutely fucking clear.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel as images from the Volkov dinner flash through my mind. Demyan's hungry gaze lingering on my wife. Dmitri's cryptic words about blood finding its way home. The photograph of a younger Marina that mirrored Bianca's features so perfectly it might have been a ghost from the future.

And now, the new pieces Teresa revealed—Marina working for both families. Disappearing around the time of Bianca's conception. My father tracking her movements for decades.

A blood connection I've been blind to, even as I claimed Bianca as my own.

The care facility comes into view, its modern façade bland and unremarkable in the dead of night. I scan the street as I pull up, noting a black sedan with tinted windows parked across the way.

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