Aria's POV
I make it halfway back to my room before Dante's phone explodes with calls.
He answers immediately, his entire body going rigid. What?
I can hear the voice on the other end—male, urgent, panicked.
Boss, you need to get to the main house. Now.
Dante's jaw clenches. Tommy, what happened?
Just get here. You need to see this.
The call ends. Dante stares at his phone, then at me, and something cold flashes in his eyes.
Stay here, he orders.
What's going on?
I don't know yet. But stay in your room. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone except me.
He's already moving, taking the stairs three at a time. I should listen. Should hide in my room like he said.
Instead, I follow.
Because if someone's targeting me, I deserve to know why.
The main house is in chaos.
Guards rush through hallways. Doors slam. Voices shout orders. I follow the commotion to the formal dining room and freeze in the doorway.
Black roses.
Everywhere.
Thirteen on the long dining table, arranged in a perfect circle. Thirteen more scattered across the floor in funeral patterns—the same patterns I saw on the memorial wall in the Blood Chapel.
Staff members stand frozen, staring. A maid is crying.
Dante stops beside a massive man with arms like tree trunks—must be Tommy. When did this happen?
Sometime in the last hour. Tommy's voice is grim. We checked this room at 6 AM for breakfast setup. Everything was normal. Came back at 7 to set the table and found... this.
Security footage?
Already checked. Cameras went dark for exactly twelve minutes. Someone knew what they were doing.
Dante moves through the roses like he's walking through a minefield. He doesn't touch them. Just studies the patterns with cold calculation.
There's more, Tommy says quietly.
Show me.
They head toward Vincent's office. I slip into the crowd of gathering staff, following at a distance.
Vincent's office—more black roses. Thirteen arranged on his desk in a star pattern.
The Blood Chapel—thirteen roses placed on the altar where family oaths are sworn.
Every secure room in the mansion. All marked with thirteen black roses.
Someone's sending a message, Dante says, his voice deadly calm.
Yeah, Tommy agrees. But to who?
Before Dante can answer, Vincent's voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.
Everyone. Dining room. Now.
The entire family assembles around the table covered in black roses.
Vincent stands at the head, his face carved from stone. Mom sits beside him, pale and terrified. Isabella glides in looking immaculate, her expression concerned but her eyes calculating.
Marco lounges in a chair, smirking like this is entertainment. A younger guy—early twenties, kinder eyes—sits across from him. Must be Luca, Dante's younger brother.
Dante stands near the door, arms crossed. When I enter, his eyes find mine immediately.
I told you to stay in your room, his glare says.
Too bad, mine answers back.
Sit, Vincent orders, gesturing to empty chairs.
I sit as far from Dante as possible. Mom reaches for my hand under the table, her palm clammy with fear.
Vincent surveys the roses with cold fury. Someone violated our security. Accessed locked areas. Left these as a message.
What kind of message? Mom's voice shakes.
About the Blood Oath. Vincent's eyes sweep the room, landing on each person in turn. About violations.
My stomach drops. Does he suspect? Does he know about Dante and me?
But there's nothing to know. We haven't violated anything. We barely know each other.
Except for the part where he's been obsessively protecting me for three years. And the part where we were alone together in that study twenty minutes ago. And the part where he touched my face and called me his.
Thirteen roses, Isabella says, her voice smooth. Thirteen is significant in our family history. The matriarch Katerina had thirteen grandchildren when she created the Blood Oath.
What does that have to do with anything? I ask before I can stop myself.
Isabella's smile is cold. Perhaps we should discuss the full truth. Since our new family members don't know the complete story.
Vincent's eyes narrow. Isabella
They should know what they're walking into, she interrupts sweetly. What protects this family. What happens to those who violate our laws.
What are you talking about? Mom whispers.
Isabella stands, moving to the roses on the table. The Blood Oath isn't just our rule. It's a supernatural binding. A curse, if you will.
Marco laughs. Here we go.
It's not a joke, Isabella snaps. Then, to Mom and me: When Katerina Castellano created the Blood Oath eighty years ago, she didn't just make a rule. She performed a ritual. Bound her spirit to our bloodline. To protect us from the weakness of forbidden love.
My skin crawls. That's insane.
Is it? Isabella picks up one of the roses, examining it. Then explain David and Christina. Found dead in a locked room in 2001. Throats slit. No weapon. No way in or out.
Coincidence, I say, but my voice wavers.
Or Giuseppe and Francesca in 1967. Drained of blood in the chapel. Guards outside the door the entire time. No one entered. No one left.
Luca shifts uncomfortably. Aunt Isabella, you're scaring them.
Good. They should be scared. Isabella's eyes lock on mine. The Blood Oath is protected by Katerina's ghost. Violate it, and she awakens. She hunts. She kills. Every couple who's broken the oath has died within weeks.
That's enough, Vincent says sharply.
Is it? Isabella turns to him. Because someone just left thirteen black roses—Katerina's calling card—in every secure room of this house. Someone's sending a message that the oath is being violated. That the matriarch is watching.
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.
Mom's grip on my hand tightens painfully. Vincent, what is she saying?
Nothing. But Vincent's eyes sweep the room again, calculating. Suspicious. Isabella's being dramatic. The roses are a prank. A threat from rivals, perhaps.
Rivals don't have access to your private chapel, Dante says quietly. Whoever did this is family. Or has family help.
Vincent's gaze lands on his son. And do you have any idea who that might be?
The question hangs heavy. Accusatory.
Dante's expression doesn't flicker. No. But I'll find out.
See that you do. Vincent stands. Everyone is confined to the estate until we determine who's responsible. No one leaves. No one enters. And if I find out someone in this family is playing games...
He doesn't finish. Doesn't need to.
The threat is clear.
Isabella smiles. Perhaps we should all be very careful about who we spend time with. The matriarch is watching, after all. And she doesn't forgive.
Her eyes slide to me, then to Dante.
She knows. Dear god, she knows something.
Dismissed, Vincent says coldly.
Everyone scatters like roaches when lights turn on. I move toward the door, desperate to escape, when I feel it.
A hand on my elbow.
Not Dante. Marco.
Careful, little stepsister, he whispers, breath hot against my ear. Thirteen roses means someone's already dead. The matriarch just hasn't collected yet.
He releases me and walks away, leaving me frozen in horror.
I turn to find Dante—to tell him what Marco said—but he's gone.
The dining room empties. Staff begins clearing the roses with gloved hands, handling them like they're poisonous.
I'm the last one standing there when I notice it.
One rose is different from the others.
Tucked between the thorns is a small piece of paper.
My hands shake as I pull it free, unfolding it.
Two words. Written in elegant script:
You're next.
And beneath it, a symbol I don't recognize—a circle with thirteen lines radiating outward like a spider's web.
The same symbol I saw carved into the memorial wall in the Blood Chapel.
Katerina's mark.