138

138
“Where are we gwoing?” Cesario asked, peering ahead as Marcello carried him in his arms.

“We’re going to meet someone,” Marcello answered quietly.

Azzurra had wanted to come along, but Marcello reassured her the boy would be safe. Though she hated staying behind, she trusted him and let Cesario go under his protection.

“Swomeone?” Cesario pressed, his babyish lisp soft in Marcello’s ear. Marcello only nodded.

He stepped into his study where Mattia stood with his back turned. The door clicked shut, and Cesario’s eyes locked on the unfamiliar figure.

Marcello felt the child stiffen against his chest, heard the faintest whisper slip past trembling lips “mwonster.” The word struck him like a blade, twisting deep, because Cesario was calling his own father a monster.

Mattia slowly turned, and his gaze fell upon the boy. Something in him broke at the sight those wide blue eyes brimming with fear. Cesario didn’t cry, didn’t try to squirm away, didn’t speak. He just stared, silent except for the terror swimming in his gaze. That silence startled Marcello more than any tantrum would have.

“Cesario,” Mattia’s voice cracked, thick with emotions he couldn’t contain.

Marcello stepped forward, setting the child on the desk, his little legs dangling. Cesario didn’t ask questions. He didn’t complain. He only watched.

Mattia stopped two feet away, his chest rising with uneven breaths. He had rehearsed countless apologies, but standing before his son, every word stuck like a stone in his throat.

“This is Mattia,” Marcello said gently. “My younger brother.”

Cesario studied him with a calm far beyond his years. No shock, no curiosity only that eerie stillness.

“I’m sorry,” Mattia croaked. “I’m sorry for hurting you and Azzurra.” He couldn’t even meet the boy’s eyes.

“Fawther,” Cesario whispered.

The word dropped like a stone in water. Marcello and Mattia froze as the toddler’s irises shifted into glowing pools of violet, a white aura shimmering around his small frame. Power pulsed from him, ancient and frightening.

“I know you’re my fwather,” Cesario said in a trance. “Mmother told me in my dream.”

Mattia stiffened at the mention of her.

“Cesario,” Marcello murmured, stepping closer. The child’s eyes were empty, otherworldly, something inhuman peering out from behind them. The chill of it crawled over his skin.

“Relax,” Marcello soothed, taking one small hand in his own. Slowly, Cesario blinked, the glow fading, his irises returning to their bright sapphire blue.

“Mwarcello,” he said innocently, and Marcello exhaled in relief, cupping his cheek before stepping back.

Mattia moved forward, but fear flashed again in Cesario’s eyes. Still, Mattia knelt, wrapping the boy’s tiny hands in his larger ones, breathing in the familiar scent of his child.

“I’m sorry, Cesario,” he whispered again.

“Lwet go.” The boy tugged, and Mattia released him instantly.

“Mwonster,” Cesario muttered, tears misting his eyes. The word shattered Mattia’s heart.

“I’ll never hurt you again,” he vowed, but Cesario only shook his head.

“Bwad fwather,” the child accused, his chin trembling.

Mattia tried to cup his cheek, but Cesario flinched, shrinking from his touch. It was too much. Mattia turned, shoulders rigid, unable to face him any longer.

Marcello gathered the boy back into his arms, rubbing his back. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “Your father will leave tonight. Do you want to say goodbye? A hug?”

Cesario shook his head firmly.

Marcello carried him out. Alarico was waiting in the hall. Marcello handed the child over, ruffling his hair with one hand and brushing away a tear with the other. “Azzurra’s waiting,” he told him softly. Cesario nodded, letting Alarico lead him back.

Closing the door, Marcello turned to his brother. Mattia stood with a hand over his face, wiping away tears.

“You alright?” Marcello asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. The next moment, Mattia collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Marcello held him, his own chest tightening, letting him weep against his shoulder.

After a time, Mattia pulled back, voice hoarse. “I fcked up. He’ll never forgive me.”

“He’s just a baby,” Marcello murmured. “He will. One day.”

Mattia shook his head. “I wanted to apologize to Azzurra too. I don’t think she’ll forgive me either. I wanted to thank her for raising my son, for loving him. I’ll owe her forever.”

“She’ll forgive you. They both will. Just… give it time,” Marcello reassured.

Mattia drew in a sharp breath. “Cesario said his mother told him the truth in a dream. Who was she?” Marcello asked.

Mattia’s eyes clouded. “I don’t know. I met her at a club. She wasn’t Lycan, but she carried a power I couldn’t place. Silver hair, skin like snow… she was stunning. I was drunk, it was one night, and by morning she was gone. Months later, somehow, my son ended up abandoned in the slave quarters of my own mansion. I never even knew.” His voice broke. “I’m a useless father.”

Marcello gripped his shoulder firmly. “That wasn’t your fault. If she can reach Cesario through his dreams, she’s powerful maybe the key to understanding his gifts. We need to find her.”

Mattia nodded, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’ll leave tonight for the Blue Blade Kingdom. I’ll search for her there.”

“When will you come back?” Marcello asked.

Mattia’s voice cracked. “I don’t know, brother.”