Page 117 of Vows of Blood

While all of this happens in the background, the only thing I see is Sienna.

She's standing frozen in the middle of the dance floor, her white dress splattered with blood, and the red-stained knife still dangling from her fingertips. She's staring at my father's body like she can't quite believe what’s just happened.

I cross to her in three strides and pull her into my arms.

She breaks, quiet sobs racking her small frame as years of fear find their release.

I hold her to me, one hand cradling the back of her head, and the other, still clutching the sonogram, pressing it between us. The knife clatters to the floor but neither of us moves to pick it up.

Inside, my heart feels like it’s been cleaved open.

My child. A future Calvano heir. Us. Gone, all because of that fucking monster’s need to control everything.

My fists shake, but with Sienna clinging to me, I fight back my own anger and focus on her and what she needs right now.

"It's over," I murmur into her hair. "He's gone. He can never hurt you again."

She clings to me, her fingers fisting in my jacket, as her whole body shakes.

Behind me, the chaos is starting to subside. The guests have fled or been escorted out. Now, only the family heads remain, standing in a loose semicircle around the carnage. Conti. Marchetti. Fiorenza. Bianchi. Their faces are chillingly calm, unaffected by the unexpected turn the day has taken. They came here tonight to attend a wedding. Instead, they got a coup.

I turn to face them, keeping Sienna tucked against my side.

"I am now the head of the Calvano family." My commanding voice carries through the sudden silence. "My actions were justified and necessary. Alfonso Calvano ordered the hit on Kate O'Sullivan, using Fausto’s son, Ignacio, as the hitman. He was hoping we would blame the Russians, and my appointment would be derailed, along with the reconciliation with the Irish. With the Russians now our enemies, he could go after the prostitution business I refused to take on.”

Mikhail nods along, wiping his knife on his pants before resheathing it inside his jacket.

“The Russians and Irish are satisfied that the matter is over, and that I was not privy to my father’s scheming.” I meet each of their eyes in turn. "If anyone has a problem with what happened here tonight, now is the time to speak."

Nobody does, which thankfully, allows me to keep my personal issues with my father private, for Sienna’s sake.

Conti is the first to move. He steps forward and extends his hand.

"Congratulations," he says quietly. "On your wedding. And on claiming your rightful position as the head of the Calvano’s. I trust you’ll deal with your cousin in your own time."

I nod. I’m going to deal with Orlando personally.

One by one, the others follow, supporting the bloody transfer of power, not because of love or loyalty, but pragmatism. They saw my father's grip slipping, saw Mikhail publicly challenge him about Orlando's brazen ambition, and knew that any objection to what I’ve done would be considered an insult by the Irish.

They're simply backing the winning side.

I'll take it.

When it's done, I turn, ready to whisk Sienna away, but she shakes her head, standing by my side, a mask of composure firmly in place as she accepts nods of respect and congratulations from the other heads.

Corso materializes at my side, his face grim but composed. “The guests are contained. I’ve confirmed there are no recording devices. Everyone is aware that the details of this private family disagreement are not to be discussed or shared.”

I nod. The people here, with the exception of Rebecca, are from Italian families; they understand how things work and the importance of keeping their mouths shut.

Nico reappears and stands, hands on hips, looking around the tipped over chairs, the abandoned drinks, shoes and forgotten clothing and purses strewn all over the floor.

“No more family events.”

Only Nico would make a joke at a time like this. I turn to tell him off, just in time to see him dip down and bow his head to Sienna.

“I’m sorry for what our father put you through, Sienna. Know that the rest of the Calvano family has your back.” He straightens and grips my shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. “Take your leave, Luca. Your bride deserves a honeymoon, and you need plausible deniability. We’ll handle the cleanup.”

“Thank you.”