The words slammed into Elena like a fist.
You belong to us now.
The chamber went quiet, the torches crackling around her the only sound. Elena stood frozen, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as the cloaked figures tightened their circle. Dante’s body lay behind her on the stone table, pale, weakening, breaths shallow and uneven. She could feel the throb of his fading heartbeat through the bond tugging at her chest.
She took a step back, but one of the masked elders moved forward, blocking her path. He was tall, draped in crimson and black, his mask carved with symbols she didn’t recognize. When he spoke again, his voice was steady, laced with authority older than any mafia family she’d ever heard of.
“You carry the blood of the first line,” he said. “The Crimson Line. The blood born f
