Page 119 of Savage Devotion

Why is Dante glaring at Nico right now?

"Anyway, I'm glad you could all be here," Nico continues, his gaze sweeping across our small group. "All of Elena's sons, together for the first time in... how long has it been?"

Luca answers, cutting Dante off. "Not since Father's birthday celebration before his death."

Nico nods, as if confirming something to himself. "A gathering of Ravellis always seems to end in blood, doesn't it?" His laugh echoes unnaturally against stone walls. "Father's nature, I suppose. Or perhaps just the family curse."

The cathedral door creaks open behind us, drawing our attention.

But instead of more mourners, dark figures slip inside—men in tactical gear, moving with precision toward strategic positions throughout the cathedral.

Trap.

The realization hits me as Nico's expression transforms, all pretense dropping away to reveal something cold beneath the mask.

"I had hoped," he says conversationally. "That this might be simpler. That I could reason with you both. Explain why neither of you deserves the throne Father built." He shakes his head with mock regret. "But Ravellis never surrender power willingly, do they?"

My hand moves to the small of my back, where my weapon waits in concealed holster.

Dante's body tenses beside me, coiled and ready for violence.

"What are you doing, Nico?" Luca demands, one arm moving to shield Bianca.

"Well,Luca… I'm claiming what should have been mine all along," Nico replies, only this time, his voice holds no respect. His eyes darken until they're almost black. Evil. "The throne neither of you deserves. The empire you've both been too busy fighting over to properly lead."

He reaches beneath his jacket, withdrawing a pistol.

My heart pounds as dozens of armed men emerge from the shadows. Their rifles point down at us from every angle. We're completely surrounded.

Dante's hand finds mine, squeezing once. A silent promise. His other hand remains near his concealed weapon, though drawing it now would be suicide.

"I've spent years watching you two tear at each other like rabid dogs. Years building my own network, my own strength, while you destroyed everything Father built."

The absurdity of the situation might be laughable if it weren't so deadly.

Three brothers, locked in a triangle of betrayal, united only by the memory of the woman whose blood stains the very ground beneath our feet.

"Don't do this, Nico," Dante warns, his voice deadly calm. "Not here. Not today."

"Where better?" Nico counters, gesturing around the cathedral. "Where all the unraveling of thispatheticempire began. Where she died. Where the Ravelli legacy will be rewritten in blood once more."

He raises the gun, aiming it with steady hand at Dante's chest. "No longer will I be the neglected son. The afterthought. Thebastard." Each word carries the weight of years of resentment that feels awfully familiar. "Today, I become what I was always meant to be."

"And what's that?" Dante asks, his hand inching toward his own weapon.

Nico's smile is terrifying in its emptiness. "The only Ravelli left standing."

Then, with a sharp gesture to his men, he utters the command that shatters the cathedral's fragile peace.

"Kill them!Kill them!The throne is mine!"

Everything happens at once.

The first shots ring out and Nico retreats immediately, disappearing behind his armed men and slipping toward a side exit.

The coward who would claim a throne without bloodying his own hands vanishes into shadow, leaving his soldiers to execute his command.

Gunfire erupts across the cathedral, bullets chipping ancient stone as the sacred space transforms into a battlefield. Dante moves with inhuman speed, shoving me behind a massive pillar before turning back toward his brothers.

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