Page 23 of Dance of Ruin

“Nope.”

I laugh as I shove past Carmine to take my turn hugging the giant of the family. “Congrats, man. That’s fucking amazing.”

I glance at Dante and Carmine.

“Shit… Guess that makes us uncles?”

“Uncle Sex Club, Uncle Pierced Dick, and Uncle Psycho,” Carmine groans, glancing back at Kratos. “Poor kid’sfucked.”

It all becomes a blur after that, all of us just camped out on the front steps of the house laughing. Tempest wants to know how far along my sister is. Lyra asks if she’s quitting the Zakharova for good. I ask how young istoo youngto give a kid motorcycle riding lessons and get thoroughly slapped.

Finally, Vito pulls Bianca in for another deep hug.

“I’ve been drinking, princess,” he chuckles. “How aboutyoutake the Chevelle out for its first spin?”

Bianca’s brows leap up to her hairline. “Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously,” Dad beams, handing her the keys. “Take it around the block or around the park. Show my grandkid how much fun they’re going to have with Pop-pop.”

Bianca squeals, hugging him tightly before she skips down the stairs with all of us behind.

The car issweet. The guys at the restoration shop know our family well, and Kratos pulled some strings with some people he knows to get specialty original parts.

I watch, still grinning as Bianca bolts to the driver's side door and sticks the key in the lock. She glances back at us with an ear-to-ear smile as she unlocks the car and swings the door open.

Several questions occur to me at once:

One—why is the car ticking.

Two—why am I being shoved violently to the side as Kratos hurls himself down the stairs straight at his wife.

Three—and this is the largest one—why is the whole world turning orange as an invisible truck slams into me, punching me and everyone around me back with the force of a wrecking ball.

But it’s when I see the fire, and feel the explosion, and hear the screaming, that it all falls horribly, viciously into place.

Oh, fuck.

6

NICO

The hospital reeksof antiseptic and chemicals.

I hate it.

I’ve hated hospitals since my mother, Giada, died in one far too young, when Carmine and I were still kids and before Dante, Claudia, and Bianca moved in with us.

I hate the harsh overhead lights. Hate the sterile white walls, the quiet murmurs of pain humming behind every breath and beep of a monitor.

Hospitals are for the broken. And tonight, that broken one is one of ours.

Bianca lies unconscious in bed, a tangle of IVs snaking from her arms, her skin pale but unmarred, except for bandage on her arm where she took a hit from the blast. Machines hum low around her, a dull, robotic orchestra of survival.

She’s going to be okay.

…So, thankfuck, is the baby.

Lyra sits at Bianca’s side, holding her hand. Dante stands on the other side of the bed, his eyes icy steel as he looks down at our sister. Tempest paces like a restless animal, chewing her cuticles, and Carmine has launched into full don mode just outside the room, organizing things with the capos and his headconsigliere, Santino.

---