DANTE
I ignore Raven’s comment about privacy; I’ve spent years navigating the minefield of my daughter’s moods. I swallow the last bite of my pancake before walking away to prepare for the day.
In my dressing room, I pull a fresh charcoal suit from the rack. As I catch my reflection, the weight of today’s activities comes crashing onto my shoulders.
There is a knot in my chest because I know that once I introduce her today, there will be no going back. She is one step closer to becoming a true Salvatore. She will learn the dark reality of the empire we’ve built with blood.
I’m nervous—a feeling I despise.
I think back to when she was five, crying over a scraped knee. Raising a girl as a single father in this world was a relentless battle, especially during the teenage years. Some days
