Page 41 of Savage Devotion

"No. They'll come to us," Dante says, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.

I follow his gaze to see Luca and Bianca approaching, their path bringing them directly toward us. The brothers have been circling each other all evening, maintaining careful distance while remaining completely aware of each other's movements.

"It was inevitable," Dante murmurs against my ear as we observe three Italian capos huddled in intense conversation. "We can't avoid them all evening."

"Breathe," I remind him, echoing his earlier advice. "Remember why we're here. This is aboutyou, not him."

Dante nods and straightens, squaring his broad shoulders beneath his perfect tuxedo. His hand finds mine, our fingers interlacing in a gesture that feels more genuine than performed.

This is crazy. Hownormalthis all feels.

Where has the dark man who was holding me prisoner? And where is the woman who swore she would fight him at every turn?

When Luca closes the last few strides, we all stand there, face to face, the tension crystallizes around us, creating a bubble of silence in the glittering celebration that continues.

"Well, look who decided to acknowledge his own brother," Luca greets, his voice neutral but eyes sharp behind his mask. "I wasn't certain you'd attend, Dante."

"And miss the opportunity to congratulate the 'happy couple'?" Dante's smile is barely there. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Luca's gaze shifts to me, assessing and coolly professional. "Ms. Castellano. You look well despite the… growth on your shoulders."

I feel Dante's fingers tighten around mine as his entire body coils with tension. The muscle in his jaw ticks, and his eyes narrow behind his black mask.

"At least I don't hide behind our father's legacy," Dante snarls, taking a half-step forward. "Tell me, brother, how does it feel wearing a dead man's ring?"

Luca's expression hardens to granite. "Better than cutting off my own finger in a pathetic display of rebellion."

The air cracks between them. I press closer to Dante's side, feeling the violent energy radiating from his body. His breathing has gone shallow, predatory.

"Careful," Dante's voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "You wouldn't want anything to happen to your pregnant queen in such a crowded room."

Bianca's hand instinctively moves to her stomach. The gesture makes Dante's lips curl into something feral.

"You always were father's attack dog," Luca says. "All muscle, no finesse. Is that why you needed to steal someone else's princess? Couldn't find your own willing bride?"

Dante's growl vibrates through his chest where my hand rests. "I didn't steal anything. Unlike you, I made legitimate arrangements."

"Legitimate?" Luca's laugh is cold. "Is that what we're calling kidnapping these days?"

I feel Dante's muscles bunch, ready to spring. His fingers flex against my hip, and I know he's calculating the distance to his brother's throat.

The masks they wear only make the confrontation more sinister. Two wolves circling each other in the candlelight, neither willing to back down.

"I actually started out the night with hope that we might speak privately," Luca says to Dante, tension vibrating beneath his controlled tone. "This public posturing serves neither of us."

"On the contrary," Dante counters smoothly. "It serves me quite well. The criminal elite should witness the transition of power before it occurs... makes for fewer complications afterward."

Luca's jaw tightens. "There will be no transition, Dante. Vito Ravelli made his choice clear, despite his… unusual tactics."

"Father is dead," Dante replies, ice coating each word. "Murdered by your filthy cross-blooded bride."

Bianca flinches visibly, and Luca steps closer to his brother, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Careful, Dante."

Dante's fingers dig deeper into my flesh, and I shift on my heels to place my hand over his. Not to restrain, but to ground him.

Luca's cold smile promises violence beneath his perfect manners. I can't help but wonder where it all went wrong between such a dangerous family.

It's like we're all playing parts in some kind of dangerous theater. The protective husband, the pregnant queen, the captive princess, the vengeful brother.

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