“Seriously. Where the fuck were you?”
There’s a shocked numbness in the car as Nico roars through the city toward Mt. Sinai Hospital. I still don’t know where Kratos’ gothic church is, because the car that’s taken me away both times I’ve been there has blacked-out rear windows. This time, when I jumped in, I told the silent driver to take me to Nico’s address.
He refused with a shake of his head, and would only drop me off back at my house. So that’s where Nico’s just picked me up, to bring me to the hospital.
“Bianca!”
I flinch, my face burning as I turn to him.
“I stayed late at work,” I lie, feeling like shit.
“With your fucking phone off?”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble as I turn and stare out the window. “I…”
Nico exhales. His hand reaches across the center console of the car, taking mine.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m just…”
I twist to look at him, watching his eyes grimly staring at the road as his jaw grinds.
“This is all my fault, isn’t it?”
His eyes soften as he glances at me.
“Stop it.”
I blink back tears. “No. It is. This is because of what I did.”
“Bianca, this is the world we live in, okay?” he hisses. “This is the mafia. Shit like this happens—”
“I torched Kratos Drakos’ fucking car, Nico!” I yell, my face paling.
I swallow down the lump that’s formed in my throat as I glance at the streets of Manhattan speeding past us as we roar toward the hospital where Dad is being taken care of.
And here I thought the punishment for my sins had just been doled out, back in the church, by Kratos’ own hands.
And mouth.
And cock.
Oh, God.
As it turns out, I was wrong.
Dad was in the basement of one of the restaurants our family owns, hosting one of his monthly poker games, until a homemade firebomb was tossed through the window, blowing the place all to hell.
The bomb was thrown by men wearing masks who drove off in a very specific vintage car: a ’67 Camaro Z28, black with white racing stripes. There’s all of one of them registered in the state of New York.
It’s owned by Hades fucking Drakos.
“Where the fuck were you?!”
I flinch as Dante grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me hard. His face is livid and haggard, his mouth lined around the edges. His eyes look wild in the overhead fluorescent hospital lights.
“I—”
“Jesus, Dante…”
Tempest’s face is as worried as my brother’s. But she puts a restraining hand on his arm and shakes her head at him.
“Take. A fucking. Breath,” she says quietly, looking straight at him.
Dante closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily before he opens them. This time, there’s a softer look in them. In seconds, he’s hugging me tight, pulling me into his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he growls quietly. “I was just fucking terrified after it happened and we couldn’t get hold of you.”
“I…”
Fuck, I hate lying to my own family. But if I wasn’t going to tell them I was, oh, you know, indulging in some fucked-up primal fetish sex stuff with Kratos Drakos before all of this, I sure as hell am not now.
“I stayed late to get in some conditioning before going home,” I mumble. “My phone was off—”
“It’s okay,” Dante breathes, pulling away and smiling wanly at me. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
Tempest hugs me next, wrapping her arms around me tightly. I meet Dante’s eyes over her shoulder. When he sees the look in my eyes, he shakes his head.
