Page 26 of Fastest Kill

Serapis's eyes flashed with anger and grief, but his voice was low when he finally answered, "Of course she knew. Your father loved her too much to hide anything from her. She thought I was trying to make Niccolò choose between us. He went to Naples to keep her happy, to prove to her that it wasn't the case. I later learned that she was supposed to pass on Niccolò's message to tell me where he had gone. She never did. I went through with the spell. Niccolò was made vulnerable, and Gabriella's enemies struck a blow while he was too weak to fight back. Gabriella knew all of this, and she went mad because Niccolò died, and her own petty selfishness was to blame."

Dario's world tilted. Too much. It is all too much.

Niccolò had died because Gabriella didn't go to the meeting with the enemies she had created. He walked into a trap, and he was vulnerable because whatever magic Serapis had been doing was working on him already. The Sorrentinos and Falcones had killed him just to hurt Gabriella, and his entire family suffered because of it.

Dario had never told Leo or Rodrigo what he overheard Niccolò saying that night in Venice, either. The next day, his father was dead, and none of it seemed to matter anymore. It was just a twisted memory that he could never remember right because he was half asleep, and it hadn't seemed important. Now, it was the key to everything.

All the pain his brothers had gone through was because no one had bothered to tell them the truth about Niccolò, Serapis, and that Gabriella had known about the magic and sent him to Naples anyway.

Leo had almost died because Gabriella had shot him in a fit of rage. Rodrigo had turned into Il Mostro just to survive and make sure Gabriella wouldn't kill Giana.

And Dario had become The Charmer, because he was the only one in the family that outsiders could like and get along with. He was the one that Gabriella had started to send to the meetings when she had pissed off people so much that they wanted to murder her. She had turned him into a shield and bait, just like his father that day in Naples, because he was the disposable one, who wasn't as smart or vicious. If he died, it wouldn't be the same kind of loss as losing one of his brothers.

Dario pulled up a chair and sat down before he fell down. He put his head in his hands and tried to keep breathing until the darkness in his vision cleared. Voices blurred in his ears, and he shut his eyes so the patterns of the Turkish rug at his feet would stop spinning.

Fingers brushed the long hair on his neck and a cool cloth was draped over it. Dario's heart slowed down, and he stopped spiraling long enough to ground himself back in the room. He lifted his head and was surprised to find Frederica standing in front of him. She patted his forehead with another wet cloth.

"Do you need a bucket? Because if you throw up on my shoes, I'll kick your ass, Colleoni," she warned him, her pissy tone not matching the concern in her eyes. "You okay?"

For a moment, Dario had the mad impulse to wrap his arms around her. He didn't have a death wish. He took the cloth from her, his long fingers brushing against hers. "Yeah, I'm okay. I… Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you," she said stubbornly. "I was protecting my mother's favorite rug from your kofta coming back up."

Dario rolled his eyes and played along, but it was too late. He had already seen that she had been worried enough to look after him. Frederica Alesci might not hate him as much as he thought.

Serapis was still sitting in the armchair opposite him, his expression grave, which meant Dario's night wasn't over.

Maybe he should have said yes to a bucket after all.

11

The hallway smelled of garlic and cold olive oil from dinner, the lingering ghost of a meal eaten before everything had exploded again.

Frederica stood with her back against the cool plaster, telling herself she had come out here for water.

Really, she just needed to step away because watching Dario be upset was something she didn't know how to handle.

Seeing his composure come apart at the seams while Serapis dismantled everything he thought he knew about his father's death wasn't something she could witness and feel nothing.

Frederica could hear her father's voice, low and even, asking something. Serapis answering. Then Dario, after a long silence, said something she couldn't quite make out.

Good. He is still talking. People who talked were generally not about to do something stupid like shoot a sorcerer who probably couldn't be killed.

Despina emerged from the kitchen, two glasses of water in hand. She saw Frederica's face and offered her one. "He's steadier than he looks."

"I know," Frederica replied, without really believing it.

Dario was good at looking steady than he was at being it, and those weren't the same thing.

Despina nodded toward the sitting room door. "Go back in."

"I was giving him a moment."

"You were running away," her mother replied pleasantly. "They're the same movement, only one of them admits what it is. Now, go back in."

"I don't know if we should be witnessing this. It's their family. Their mess," Frederica argued.

"You are really going to walk away when your friends are in danger from some ancient psychopath trying to become a god?" Despina's eyes narrowed. "And before you bite my head off that Dario isn't your friend, I'm also thinking of Kon and Altun. They are friends. This Agrippa man will be coming for them, too, and you know it."