“She has the blood.”

I felt the cold weight of the silver locket resting against my skin.

It had belonged to my mother, Theresa.

She had given it to me on her deathbed, her voice a faint whisper in the quiet hospital room.

*Never go to the estate, Clara,* she had told me.

*But if you must, remember the hearth.*

I hadn’t understood her words then.

I had thought she was delirious from the fever.

But now, standing in the very room she had fled, it all made sense.

The estate was a trap, but it was also a fortress with its own escape.

I shifted Luca slightly in my left arm.

He was quiet now, his thumb pressed against his tiny lips, his eyes wide and dark like his father’s.

Liana was breathing softly, her head tucked under my chin.

I could feel the rapid beat of her heart against my own.

“You’re a fool, Silvio,” Leo said, his eyes scanning the captains.

“She’s a soft girl.”

“She doesn’t know how to run a family.”

“She doesn’t need to,” Dominic said from behind the chair.