Lucien leans back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. “There was a woman,” he starts. “Serena. Beautiful. Brave. Innocent. And my wife.”
I frown. The f**k does this have to do with me?
“But then…” He exhales sharply, his nostrils flaring. “She fell in love with a bastard. Some call it ‘fated mates.’”
Dante tenses beside me, jaw flexing. “Father,” he warns.
Lucien ignores him. “She ran away with your foolish, wicked father…taking my child with her. And then?” His lips twist into something bitter, something ugly. “She paid the price. She paid when he betrayed her love. He tortured her. He tortured my daughter. And then he killed them.”
“Enough!” Dante slams his fist on the table, the sound booming through the dining hall like a gunshot. Silverware clatters. Glasses shake. Some
