CHAPTER 16: THE DYNASTY OF BLOOD
The grand dining hall of the DeLuca villa was bathed in the warm, golden glow of a hundred beeswax candles. Outside, rain lashed against the heavy stone walls, but inside, the air was thick with the rich scents of aged Chianti, roasted rosemary lamb, and fresh bread.
At the head of the long oak table sat Lorenzo. To his right sat Isabella, looking regal and untamed; to his left, Marcus, pouring a glass of dark red wine for Sophia, who had long since become family.
And at the far end of the table sat Emma, reviewing a map of Zurich's financial district on an encrypted tablet.
"The Old Crown believes they are hunting a child," Lorenzo said, raising his crystal glass of wine, the firelight catching the dark red liquid. "They forget who trained her."
"They forget who bled for her," Isabella added quietly, resting her hand over Lorenzo’s linked fingers on the table.
Emma set her tablet down and raised her own glass. Her gaze swept over her family—the father who had burned empires to find her mother, the mother who had survived a tomb to keep her safe, and the uncle who had stood through every storm of lead and blood.
"They came for a key," Emma said, her voice echoing with absolute, terrifying authority through the vaulted room. "I am going to give them a grave."
Lorenzo clinked his glass against hers, the clear ring of crystal cutting through the quiet night.
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The old war was over. But a new queen had risen from the ashes, ready to rule an empire built on unbreakable love and absolute, lethal strength.
The DeLuca dynasty would never fall.
