Page 44 of Blood Heir

“What is it?” My voice tightens.

“The guards. They—they said she drove off.” His words stumble. “With Gustavo.”

The cigarette falls from my fingers, hitting the polished floor with a soft hiss.

The flash of rain against Fioretta’s face still lingers behind my eyes.

Cassian steps closer, his chest rising with each hurried breath. His hand opens slowly, revealing a small black chip resting in his palm. The faint blinking red light pulses rhythmically like a steady heartbeat.

The tracker.

The one I planted in her pocket. The one she wasn’t supposed to notice.

Back in the car, I let my fingers slide downward, tracing the line of her jaw. My thumb dipped along the side of her neck, my palm dragging just slightly as if steadying her chin. I forced her to meet my eyes, locking her in place.

But that wasn’t all I was doing.

The other hand, hidden between our bodies, moved with precision.

Tucked in my jacket sleeve was the small tracker—a wafer-thin device no larger than a coin, designed for moments like this.

As I leaned in further, my fingertips ghosted down along the waistband of her jeans—just enough to slip inside the front pocket, just deep enough that she wouldn’t feel it. Smooth, practiced.

The weightless chip nestled against the fabric, perfectly still.

She was too focused on my face. Too focused on my voice as I whispered, “You are still my wife, Fioretta. You will act like my wife.”

Cassian’s voice is quiet but heavy. “The guard said she handed this to him…and asked him to give it to you.”

He pauses, glancing up at me, almost bracing for my reaction. “She also said to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

For a moment, the words hang there, suspended in the thick air of Vittoria’s grand hall. The only sound is the faint hum of electricity from the overhead lights.

I close my eyes briefly and take a long, slow drag of my cigarette. The smoke fills my lungs, stinging slightly before I exhale through my nose. The familiar burn does little to ease the tight coil winding inside my chest.

The corner of my jaw twitches as I sigh, letting my shoulders drop slightly in exhaustion.

Of course, she found it. Of course, she knew.

“Where are they headed?” I ask quietly, my voice low, controlled.

Cassian glances at the blinking tracker. “We don’t know yet.”

I crush the cigarette under my heel, grinding it into the marble. The smoke trails upward as I stare at the small device pulsing in his hand.

This has to be some sort of demented joke. Fuck my life!

Chapter 11 - Fioretta

I slam the bathroom door shut behind me, my heels echoing against the floor as I march toward the massive mirror. My reflection stares back at me—bright, flushed cheeks, messy bun still perfectly defiant, and oversized sunglasses perched on my head like a crown. I mutter under my breath, fuming.

“They are so rude. I wonder how poor me could stand them! Meanies! Ugh!”

I slap my palm on the smooth counter and twist the gold faucet handle. The cold water rushes out in a perfect stream as if mocking my current mood. I splash some on my face, breathing deep, willing myself to calm down. My hands tremble slightly under the water, but I tell myself it's fine. I'm fine.

The door creaks open behind me.

I snap my head toward it, narrowing my eyes as a tall young man steps inside. He freezes for a moment, staring as if he'd seen a ghost.

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