The dungeon reeked of rust and despair.

Chains rattled softly in the shadows as I descended the stone steps behind Luca, my wedding dress replaced with black slacks and a fitted shirt. There would be no gowns in war. Only armor.

Antonio sat slumped against the wall, blood dried along his temple, one eye swollen shut. But even in chains, he smiled when he saw me.

“Still wearing white, little sister?” he rasped. “Even after marrying the devil?”

Luca’s jaw ticked beside me.

“You tried to kill him,” I said coldly, stepping closer. “On my wedding day.”

Antonio coughed a laugh. “I was trying to save you.”

“From what?”

“From...