Page 70 of Corrupted Heart

I grin, turning toward the door to my dad’s hospital room.

“Not here,” Aldo adds. “Back at the house.”

“Easy, easy, Bumblebee,” Vito chuckles as I all but vault into his arms the second he walks in the door to the study, where we’ve all been waiting.

He hugs me just as fiercely as I’m hugging him before he slowly pulls back. When he does, I can’t help but notice that he won’t meet my gaze.

“Dad—”

“This isn’t your fault, Bianca,” Vito says quietly, smiling softly as he pats my hand. “But…” His mouth thins. “There’s a lot we need to discuss right now.” He turns and clears his throat, nodding to Leo and Rocco and a few other Barone men present. “I need to speak to just family. Aldo, that includes you.”

The men nod solemnly before turning and filing out. When they’re gone, Carmy closes the door behind them, then joins the rest of us on the chairs and couches near the fireplace. With the Barone muscle gone, it’s just Dante, Tempest, Nico, Carmine, Aldo, Dad, and me.

Dad exhales slowly as he sinks into his favorite chair. I plop down on the end of a couch right next to him, and he pats my hand before turning to Aldo, who’s standing by the window.

“I could use a drink, Aldo.”

Wordlessly, Aldo pours two Fernet-Brancas, handing one to Dad, and tapping the side of the glass he’s kept for himself against it. They both drink deeply before Dad exhales again. He turns to me, a strange, dark look in his eyes.

“I want to be clear. This isn‘t Bianca‘s fault,” Dad growls quietly, dragging his eyes around the room. “She’s not to be blamed, and none of you gets to hold this over her head. Ever.” He arches a brow at Carmine. “You’ve all pulled way worse than torching a car. Is that understood?”

Carmy nods. “Of course, Pop.”

“Good.” Vito clears his throat. “I’ve been in contact with Ares Drakos.”

Carmine’s lips instantly curl. “Fuck those fucking Greeks?—”

“Carmine.”

Vito’s tone quiets my brother.

“Please, allow me to finish uninterrupted. As I was saying, I’ve spoken with Ares. He’s not a rash or reckless man, and firstly he wanted us all to understand that the restaurant tonight was selected because they believed it was empty. The restaurant itself was closed, and the apartments upstairs are very obviously being gut-renovated. The game in the basement isn’t exactly publicized, either. After talking with Ares, I don’t see any reason to suspect that the Drakos family was intending for anyone to get hurt.”

“So those fucking pricks decide to bomb a goddamn building just because an old car got burned?” Nico hisses. “How the fuck is that an appropriate response?”

“The issue isn’t so much the car itself,” Dad mutters. “It’s what was in the car.” He grimaces and takes a heavy swig of his Fernet. “Though they were bidding rivals for the West Side building, the Drakos family have recently been in alliance talks with Davit Kirakosian.”

Sitting on the couch across from me, Dante scowls deeply. Aside from running Club Venom, my brother trades in whispers, secrets, and information. But it’s clear this proposed alliance is news to him, and I can tell that’s pissing him off.

“Te Mallkuarit loaned an artifact that’s been in their family for generations to the Drakoses, as a show of goodwill. A 12th century crucifix made from human bones.”

Nico makes a face. “What the fuck?”

“That’s Te Mallkuarit for you,” Dante mutters. “Deeply religious Albanian crime weirdos with serious roots in Eastern European mysticism.”

Carmine shifts uncomfortably. “Please don’t tell me this fucking thing was in the car.”

Vito’s expression says it all.

“Shit,” Carmy mutters.

Dad sighs, taking another sip of his drink. He’s still avoiding looking at me. “The Greeks had no choice but to retaliate, or face trying to explain to Davit that his creepy-ass relic got torched without payback. The problem is, Kirakosian isn’t satisfied. That fucked-up bone statue held a lot of meaning for his family. They don’t know it was Bianca, but they do know it was someone at least connected to our family.” His face darkens. “And now Davit’s calling for war.”

I shudder, my face paling as I desperately try to meet Dad’s gaze. He still won’t look at me.

“So that’s one problem,” Dad continues. “But there’s more. Davit isn’t the only one banging his spear on his shield.”

“Don Pagano,” Dante mutters.

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