Page 8 of Unbound

“Any of them still sane?” It seems unlikely, after years of torture, threat, and abuse.

He thinks it over. “Most of them? No.”

“Then put them out of their misery. But do it quickly, no pain, no torture.”

“Understood. There is one, the journalist from Miami. She’s been here maybe eight years. Got scooped because she was asking too many questions, snooping in the wrong places. She’s got backbone. I think her anger’s kept her alive through it all.”

I shrug. I don’t care about her and would happily give the order to kill her as well. It’ll be easiest in the long run. But I grudgingly have to admire the spirit of a woman who can survive what she has and keep her wits about her. Rosa, for sure, would also be unhappy if I simply went around killing humans for my own convenience. Shit, this “being a better man” bullshit is harder than it looks.

“Release her into the court, but don’t let her leave and don’t let her have access to the outside world.”

“No WhatsApp?”

“No fucking WhatsApp, no YouTube, no TikTok, no phone. Tell her she obeys or she dies. I’ll decide what else to do with her later. Any word from Sophia?”

He shakes his head, looks amused. “What? Did you expect her to send you champagne? You were responsible for the death of her father, and you’ve taken his place as Don when some might say that role should be hers.”

“She’s fucking welcome to it. If she wants to come home and take over, she can be my guest. Why hasn’t she?”

Aidan knows her better than me. We always clashed, in a way that occasionally ended in fucking. I bear no grudges against her for being Vincenzo’s kid; she had no choice in the matter, as none of us do when it comes to our parents.

“I haven’t spoken to her,” he tells me, sounding aggrieved about that. “And I heard a rumor …”

I roll my eyes, make a wind-it-on gesture with my hands.

“I heard she’s shacked up with a wolf.”

I blink in confusion. Did I hear him right? I don’t know which surprises me more, that Sophia likes someone enough to live with them, or that she’s gone feral. There’s no rule against it, but a vamp and a were? That’s unusual. “Okay. Well. I wish them every fucking happiness. What else do I have to do today? I’m getting a headache already.”

I rub my temples. I actually am. I’d rather be staked in the balls than face another day of meetings. All kinds of jackasses are coming out of the woodwork, mistaking my quest for stability as weakness. Claiming compensation for grievances against the court, some of them forming committees, others just shouting about it. It’s not only me getting it, it’s my men too, the soldiers who were loyal to me during the battle to end Vincenzo. It’s a giant shitshow, and truthfully, I’m out of my depth. Add in the witchy woo-woo, the flashes of my childhood, and the constant nagging worry about what Tomasso Capelli is up to, and you get a carousel of crap. Being the boss is way overrated.

Aidan’s about to fill me in on the night’s exciting schedule when the door to the office bursts open, and Rosa flies in. She looks distressed, and I’m on my feet straightaway, holding her by the shoulders and checking for damage. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got to go,” she mutters, her eyes wide, her skin pale. “Donna and me. We’ve both been Called to the same place. That’s never happened before, and it’s going to be bad … it already is bad, Luca. So bad. And there’s nothing we can do to stop it …”

Tears pour from her eyes, and I drag her into my arms. She pummels me, tells me there’s no time, but eventually she gives in. She sobs against me and takes what comfort I can offer. I feel like an asshole for griping about my lot in life now, because the Seers? They don’t have it easy. Their visions—the Calls—are so vivid they live them as though they’re actually there, and I know Rosa’s are especially powerful. She rides along in the minds of the worst monsters out there, all so she can hunt them down. It’s how we first met, she was dusting an especially ugly vamp called Rogan. I know how real it all is to her, how much she feels every wound, hears every scream. How she’s torn apart every time she fails to stop the worst from happening. Every time someone dies, she takes it personally, holds herself responsible. It’s all linked in with losing her family when she was a kid, or maybe it’s just because of that big heart of hers, I don’t know. Either way, it’s a heavy load to carry. It’s been quiet for a while but looks like she’s back on that nonstop vamp train now. All I can do is try and help.

“Where?” I ask her.

“West Virginia. A little place in the Appalachians. One of those small towns with a population sign. It was four hundred and eight. Now it’s … not.”

Her lower lip tremors, and her green eyes glow in that way they do when she is upset or excited.

“Survivors?” I say.

Her nostrils flare. “I think maybe, yes. And some of them are still there. The vamps who did this … they’re still there.”

Not for long, I think, taking in the increasingly determined expression on her face. I am not a bleeding heart, or a man who is easily moved. I’ve seen so much death and destruction over the long years of my life that I’m almost immune to it. I’ve had to be; it was the only way to survive. But Rosa? She’s never taken that path. She’s never taken the easy way out, shut down her compassion, closed herself off to others’ pain. It’s one of the many reasons I love her, and one of the many reasons I know I will always have my work cut out for me keeping her safe. I cannot cage her or stop her being who she is. All I can do is be there for her in any way I can.

I nod and look at Aidan. He gets it straightaway and picks up the phone to start making arrangements.

“I’ll clear your schedule,” he says. “You want a plane? Helicopter?”

Despite her misery, Rosa perks up. She slaps me on the arm and says, “You never told me you had a plane. You better not use it to go visit your sidepiece.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I tell her, dropping a kiss on top of her head. She’s devastated, emotionally wrung out, but she’s still my Rosa. Still a creature made of fire. “And we don’t have a plane. We just know a man who does. Specializes in vamp travel. Blacked out windows, no security checks.”

“Coffins instead of seats?”