"They don't want me back."

Dante's voice cut through the smoke-heavy air. He stood in the ruins of his family's garden, staring at the evidence bag containing that elegant, mocking note.

Sienna looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"The Council. This whole thing." He gestured at the burned villa, his wrapped hands moving stiffly. "The invitation. The conditions. It was never about bringing me back into the fold."

"Then what was it about?"

"Control. Or elimination." His jaw clenched.

"They wanted to see if I'd play their game.

If I'd show up begging for my father's seat. And when I didn't respond fast enough, when I hesitated, they...