Page 123 of My Solemn Vow
“She could have met with her uncles before Kerrianne got there. Look! She’s clearly conspiring with the waiter. Her uncles sat at a different table. Passing messages is plausible.” Neil argues with something that Valor says.
“They weren’t there,” I murmur, fighting for my life andconsciousness.I should hold pressure on the wound.I can’t move my arms. “I knew Gregorio and his consigliere wouldn’t be. Talked to Leticia. Italy... for a purchase. Ev-every y-year before Christmas.” I focus, trying to get my words to form. “Berto. He went this year too. Some... thing... about earning it.”
“When?” Valor is in front of me.
I didn’t see him move. His greenish-brownish-glowing eyes are piercing me. His thumb sliding up and down along the side of the blade.
“They left?” I can’t focus. My brain is foggy. “Wednesday? Tuesday? Leticia texted me. Francesca redecorating my room.”
I swallow, my mouth dry but my palms sweaty.
Valor steps back from me, and I whimper.
A moment of clarity strikes me harder than the pain in my gut does. Logic. “Declan. He sat at the bar. If Gregorio D’Medici was there... ask him.”
Ian pulls out his phone and dials Kerrianne’s bodyguard. My head throbs in the seconds between rings.
It goes to voicemail. A simple message of his phone number is read out by an automated woman’s voice.
Valor pulls out his phone as the silence ticks by for a fraction of a second.
Neil distracts him, pushing on. “If it wasn’t for whatever she told them, my Gavin would be alive.”
“What?” I gasp. The sharp inhale sends a stab of pain through my stomach, but I study, try to study, the men. The shock sends my heart beating faster. “Gavin is dead?”
Valor turns to look between his uncle and father, shaking his head in disbelief. Ian nods in confirmation.
“Don’t look surprised, Miss. D’Medici,” Neil sneers.
I know my grip on reality is slipping, but he doesn’t look like a man grieving. There is no sadness with the hatred. It’s not well contained mourning or shock.Psychopath story time. Party of one.
I just know it. I’ve seen enough loss in life to know that it’s not right.
“You killed him.”
The words come out before I mean to say them, before the implication of saying them crosses my mind.
“You’re accusing me of killing my own son,” he deadpans.
“Did you?” Ian asks.
Neil spins and looks at his brother. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I kill my son?”
“Royal?” I ask.
I keep trying to find the man I loved through logic and questioning. He wouldn’t hurt me like this. I draw a breath, but it’s hard to get air in, the wound in my stomach not letting my chest expand. Everything hurts, but lack of oxygen makes me lightheaded, and I forget the pain. “Order of succession... followseldest. Kill Ian... family head to Valor. Kill Royal... Neil’s son second in... consigliere.”
Valor nods, understanding what I’m saying. “Kill Gavin, frame the D’Medicis to break the truce. I would put myself on the line for my daughter. You and I would be out of the way without Royal to —”
Ian starts dialing his phone.
“That’s preposterous,” Neil growls. It’s feral.
Scary.But I can’t be scared. You can’t be scared when you’re not alive.
“Sacrifice.” Spots dot the edge of my vision, but I force myself to stay awake through it. “Gavin is youngest. I bet... you have an heir.”
Royal doesn’t answer his phone.
