Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(80)

“Nik had an agreement with Val,” Claudia said. “Nik went against it, and Val was in the right to strike him.”

Blood Spatter glanced between them, then shrugged and stepped away.

Nik yanked my pouch of poisons from my hip and walked off.

Val dropped beside me. I tried to push him away, but my arms bent like reeds in the wind. He wrenched the knife from me, ignoring my cry of pain, and threw it away. A dull ache spread across my body, replacing the sharp pain of the invading knife. Each breath became more difficult until I felt like I was drowning, as if the cold grasp of an angry ghost pulled me beneath the canals.

“Lea!” Val pulled me into his arms, tears running down his face. I turned to look at Les, lying on the bridge.

“I’m sorry!” He held me tight. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, I swear it.”

I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, to flee so I wouldn’t have to look upon him any longer, but I couldn’t find the words. The salty taste of blood coated my lips, and I closed my eyes. I was so tired.

“I found the entrance,” a voice said from the end of the bridge. The man in the hat.

“Leave her, Val,” Claudia said. “The sooner we can be done with this, the sooner I can return to Matteo and Allegra.”

My eyes snapped open at that. Claudia caught me looking at her and grinned. “What?” she asked me. “You thought you were the only Saldana with a secret lover?”

Matteo. My brother Matteo was alive. Marcello and I were not the last of our Family. And Claudia’s baby . . . Matteo was the father, had been her secret all along. But he was a Da Via now. He’d turned his back on us.

It was too late, anyway. It didn’t matter.

“Give me a coin,” Val said to someone.

“You know Estella doesn’t allow us—”

“I said give me a gods-damned coin!” he screamed.

A moment later his ungloved fingers pressed something against my lips. I let him slip the coin into my mouth. He sobbed and leaned over me, pressing his lips against my forehead. He gently lowered me to the ground. Then they were gone, vanishing into the streets that led to Marcello.

I rolled onto my stomach and agony shredded me, like my heart ripped free from my chest. I screamed against my closed lips. I needed to keep the coin safe. I had one last thing to do.

I crawled to Les, every movement agony, every second my vision growing darker. The sounds of the night faded until all I knew was the image of Les lying before me on the cold street. When I reached him, I brought my fingers to my mouth and pulled out the coin. It was stamped with the Da Via crest. I didn’t need it.

I slipped it past Les’s unmoving lips, his breath silenced. He was still beautiful, even in death. I would’ve wished something different for him. But Marcello had been right. I was a Saldana, and we brought destruction to those we loved.

The pain diminished. A final mercy in a life seemingly devoid of them.

I closed my eyes and waited for my breaths to stop.





thirty-four


PALE LIGHT SPILLED ACROSS MY FACE. I GROANED AND covered my eyes. It was too early. I wanted to sleep.

The light continued its push until I sighed and rolled over, peeling my eyes open.

I could see nothing except watery gray light. I blinked a few times, waiting for my eyes to adjust, to focus on something.

I pushed myself up. My nerves burned against my skin, in my muscles, my organs, my bones. I cried out and froze, trying to keep the pain at bay. After a moment the fire eased to a strong ache. Still painful, but manageable.

I turned my head slowly, searching for furniture, landmarks, a hint to discover where I was. But there was only the endless pale light and what seemed to be fog rolling in and out of the edge of the nothingness.

I struggled to stand, barely keeping my balance against the pain that blazed through my body. I glanced at my feet, trying to keep them stable. My legs were bare. I was naked. Scratches and bruises covered my body, the largest bruise flowing across my chest like a menacing ink blot and rolling down my left side to a violent mass of swollen and wounded flesh.

Something warm dripped down my spine. I reached behind me and my fingertips returned red with blood.

The knife. The knife that had pierced my body. That had killed me.

I was dead.

I looked around again. Nothing. No one. I was alone.

I swallowed. “Is anyone there?” My voice emerged hoarse and rough, like I hadn’t spoken in years.

The fog shivered and spiraled and then blew away, as if a wind carried it, though I felt nothing. No one answered me.

Behind the fog stood a forest of trees, each one white and bare and stretching toward the sky. I looked closer. A forest, yes, but they weren’t trees.

Giant bones were stuck in the ground and reached upward, swaying with the hidden wind. No mortal thing had ever possessed bones so large.

I took one tentative step toward the forest, bracing for the expected pain. Then another. I continued in this slow and agonizing manner, but I never drew closer.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach to lessen the pain.

“Am I dead?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

“Yes.” The voice was soft and quiet and seemed to emanate from the trees before me.

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am, Daughter.” The trees swayed.