Page 115 of Vows of Blood

Around us, the music continues to play for a few more bars before dying abruptly as Luca’s booming voice cuts through the chaos, ordering everyone to stay back. As he pushes through the crowd, other guests finally notice that something is very wrong in the center of the dance floor as they turn to stare.

Gasps ripple through the crowd, and I'm dimly aware of guards reaching for weapons.

"Kill her," Alfonso snarls. "What are you waiting for? Shoot the bitch."

"Stand down. Nobody fires." Luca is moving toward us, his hands raised. "Everyone, stand down."

My hand shakes, the knife wavering, but I press it harder, drawing a fresh line of red against his throat. I've imagined this moment, dreamed about it, woken up sweating and furious with the memory of what this man took from me.

And now I'm here, finally in a position to stick up for myself and for Luca, and yet I can barely hold the blade steady.

"Sienna." Luca appeals to me, speaking quietly and carefully. "Talk to me. Whatever this is, just tell me."

I turn to look at him, lost, wondering how I got here, about to ruin the second chance I was lucky enough to be given.

"I came that night." The words rip out of me before I can stop them. "The night we were supposed to run away together, just like we’d planned."

Luca goes still, knowing this is about to take a dark turn.

I jerk my chin toward his father. "He was there waiting for me. With his men." I glare at Fausto.

"She's lying." Alfonso spits out, words dripping with contempt. "She's insane. Luca, stop her. Right now. I’m your father."

But Luca doesn’t budge an inch, just patiently waits for me to continue.

Fausto takes a step toward me, but Corso immediately moves to block his path to me. Ignacio moves to his father’s side, engrossed in what’s going on, not noticing the tall Russian shadowing his every more.

"He didn't just send me away, Luca." I squeak out, frustrated by how weak I sound, but I push through. "He had his men tie me up. He beat me. It’s all a blur but I know they drugged me, made me take some pills, then dumped me outside my house a couple of days later." Even to me, I sound distant, detached.

In the silence, absolute silence, I blurt the words out, no choice now but to explain myself.

"I can't prove that's why I lost the baby." The words tear through my heart like a blade, just as painful now after years of repressing the memories and burying them deep down inside. "Just like I can't prove he burned down my parent’s business and framed my father. But I know. I KNOW." I press the knife harder, my vision blurring with tears, but I still see the bead of blood forming and running down his meaty neck. "I know it was him. He said it was my fault for trying to find you…"

Luca takes another step closer, one hand on top of his head, digging into his hair, the other, now holding his gun, ready to take out anyone who tries to intervene. "Sienna, what are you talking about?"

My free hand reaches into my bodice, finds the creased photograph I've carried against my heart all day. I pull it out and hold it up, letting Luca see.

The sonogram, a tiny blob that was supposed to be our baby.

Alfonso shakes his head frantically as Luca staggers forward and takes it from me with shaking fingers.

I watch Luca as he stares at the image, the color draining from his face as he reads the date, his hard exterior finally cracking as devastation and rage twist his features.

Slowly, Luca's dark eyes lift to his father.

"I know you started the fire. It’s got your MO all over it. But did you know about this?" The question is quiet, deadly, as he holds out the strip of pictures for his father to see. "Did you kill my child?"

Alfonso scoffs, but his high color gives him away. "This is ridiculous. Of course, I didn’t know. That might not have even been yours, anyway.” He acts indignant, staring at the small crowd watching, attempting to gather their support, but this is something they cannot turn a blind eye to.

I press the blade deeper. "Tell him the truth," I hiss.

“Are you really going to believe this lying whore over your own father?" Alfonso is defiant. "She's making it up to turn you against me."

"Tell him." The blade digs deeper, slicing through his crepey skin.

As more blood runs down his throat, pooling in the collar of his shirt, Alfonso's lip curls with contempt.

"Any child born to a woman like this had no right to the Calvano dynasty," he sneers dismissively.