"This choice, who else does it affect?"

"Every choice is a ripple in a pond. It affects everyone in its path directly or indirectly."

"That is really helpful," Dante bit out with a ferocity that declared his temper was getting the best of him, but he'd suddenly stopped caring. "If you can't tell me who, then tell me what the choice is I have to make."

"Do not confuse an ordinary choice with one of destiny, Dante."

"Deus, I hate it when you do this." Dante scowled at the man. "The least you could do is give me some guidance here. Is she in danger?"

"You already know the answer. The future remains unwritten until it happens."

"That's the answer you always give when you want me to figure something out on my own," he snarled as he began to prowl the room. "And here you were just a few minutes ago lamenting the fact that you and Marcus hadn't stopped me from taking my oath."

"And I already regret telling you what I've told you," Placido said with a weary sigh. "But it was a choice I made, and as I said, a choice is a ripple that can have far-reaching consequences."

"Remind me to thank you later for that thought-provoking wisdom," Dante said with more than a hint of sarcasm. The inner peace and control he'd barely managed to salvage while showering had disappeared again. Was there such a thing as an ordinary choice?

The ninth Tabulati of the Novem Conformavi taught that everything in the universe was interconnected. That teaching alone meant that every choice one made was tied to one's destiny. He suppressed a groan. Cleopatra Vorenus was becoming a major problem. He wanted to put her on the first plane back to Chicago where she belonged. He rejected the notion. He wanted her where he could keep an eye on her. Keep her out of trouble. The realization made his stomach lurch.

Was that the choice? Was he supposed to send her back? Was that his destiny? Sending her away before he lost control? Even if he tried that, she wasn't likely to go willingly and would probably find a way to return. Then he'd be right back where he started. This time he couldn't contain his groan. Things had been bad enough already, but now Placido had managed to muddy the Tiber River that much more.

Chapter 9.

MARCUS clicked on the END CALL button, and Dante's visage dissolved into the background of the flat-screen monitor. Jupiter's Stone. How was he supposed to explain to Atia that he'd agreed to let their daughter remain in the heart of Praetorian territory? The woman was going to rip his heart out when she learned he'd not ordered Cleo to come back to the States.

The fact that Cleo was unwilling to leave Rome showed how much of a rift existed between mother and daughter. Worse, she'd convinced Ignacio Firmani to give her the Angotti assignment. If he'd known that ahead of time, he would have tried to stop her. Tried being the operative word. Cleo got just as much of her stubbornness from him as she did from Atia.

But even if he'd known ahead of time, it was doubtful he would have been able to convince her to do nothing, short of ordering her not to assassinate Angotti. And that would only have put more distance between them, something he was trying to avoid. As much as he might want to use his authority to keep her safe, he was certain his efforts in that direction would only alienate her. That he didn't want. He'd missed too many years with her as it was.

He wanted to get to know his daughter. Although how in Juno's name he could do that if she remained in Rome, he didn't know. It didn't please him that Firmani had allowed her to go after Angotti. The decision made him question the man's judgment. Atia put great faith in her Celeris, but there was something about him Marcus didn't trust, even if Firmani had been guarding Atia for years. Marcus snorted softly.

He was jealous. Clear and simple. He was jealous of Firmani. The man was in love with Atia, even if she didn't realize it. Marcus shoved the chair away from his desk and glanced at the mantel clock over the fireplace. Almost six fifteen. Atia might already be in the research lab.

The woman still liked to rise at the crack of dawn, while he preferred a more reasonable hour. He rose from his chair and crossed the bedroom floor to where a small fire blazed in the fireplace. White Cloud had all the modern conveniences, but he'd always preferred to sleep and wake to a wood fire. Probably a habit left over from his past life as the ancient Roman soldier Tevy.

He pressed the heels of his palms against the mantelpiece and stared down at the fire. Images from the distant past danced in the flames. One of these visions was of the Milvian Bridge and the fireballs raining down from the sky to kill his friends and many of his men. Octavian was to blame for that day of carnage. Even in his present incarnation as the Nicostratus, Patriarch of the Collegium, the man hadn't changed in almost two thousand years. Whether he was Octavian or Nicostratus, he was still a murderous bastardo.

Marcus violently pushed himself away from the mantel with a dark sound of fury. Whatever it took, he would see the man dead. As Octavian, the man had betrayed his brothers in the Guard. But as Nicostratus, the bastardo had done something much worse. The man had taken an innocent boy and turned him into a monster. Marcus closed his eyes as the pain of that terrible moment in the Pantheon washed over him again.

Marcus had killed Gabriel-his own son.

The memory sliced into him as viciously as Gabriel's sword had pierced his side. Marcus parted his robe and bent his head to see the spot on his thigh where his son's weapon had nicked a major artery. There was still a small scar. He'd not allowed anyone to touch him after Phaedra's healing ritual. He would have died if not for her. And now she lay unconscious in the Sicari medical facility in Genova. She'd given everything to save Lysander. It was the same type of sacrifice he would willingly make for Atia.

With a grimace, he moved quickly back to the desk and opened up the webcam software to contact the Genova hospital. It took several minutes for the doctor to reach the computer, and when a woman finally appeared in front of the camera, Marcus knew from the doctor's expression that Phaedra's condition hadn't changed.

After a brief update, he ended the conversation and sat staring at the blank monitor screen for several moments. Surely, Vesta wouldn't be so cruel as to keep Lysander and Phaedra apart a second time. Shouts of panic and anger in the corridor abruptly interrupted his train of thought, and he immediately called for his clothes with the mere whisper of a thought.

In less than sixty seconds he was completely dressed. As he strode toward the door of his suite, he summoned his sword, and the weapon flew through the air into his hand almost at the same moment he flung his door wide open. The sound of chaos was louder in the hall. A young boy raced by, and Marcus reached out with his thoughts to drag the youngster to a halt. Terror filled the boy's face as he cried out in fear.

"It's all right, boy, I'm not going to hurt you," Marcus said in a calm, quiet voice as he slid his sword into the sheath hanging at his side. "Tell me what's happened."

"It's one of the researchers, il mio signore. They've been murdered."

Murder. The boy had to be mistaken. Sicari resolved their differences in open combat before members of the Order. Murder was virtually unheard of among the Sicari. Atia's face flashed before his eyes, and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach.

"Have you seen the Prima Consul, boy?"

"No, il mio signore."

Fear churning in his stomach, he released his mental grip on the boy then raced down the hall toward the research lab. Juno help him if something had happened to her. Deus, he'd not been this frightened since the day the Praetorians had taken Gabriel. The closer he got to the lab, the more crowded the hall became.

Desperate to find Atia, he commanded people to stand aside. Some people moved the minute he ordered them to do so, while he had to shove others out of his way. Just outside the research lab, a short, rotund man with a balding head stood arguing with a fighter he recognized from Lysander's temporary guild in Rome.

He frowned as he tried to remember the fighter's name. Pasquale. That was his name. Luciano Pasquale. He didn't know the other man. The minute the fighter looked up, Marcus caught his attention.

"The Prima Consul, is she-"

"She's fine, il mio signore," Pasquale said with a reassuring nod of his head. "She's in the lab with the Celeris."

Relief crashed through him before irritation took its place. Firmani again. Of course he'd be with Atia. It was the man's job. He clenched his jaw. The sooner he put the Celeris out of work the better. But the only way that was going to happen was if he convinced Atia they were meant to be together.

As he pushed past the man Pasquale had been arguing with, pudgy fingers bit into his arm. He stiffened at the touch and turned his head to direct a cold look at the short, stocky man delaying him. The man immediately jerked his hand away but wilted only slightly under Marcus's glare.

"Who in Juno's name are you? If Pasquale won't let me in the lab, what makes you think you can go in?" the man snapped in anger.

Suddenly, Marcus was sorry he'd given orders that no one was to divulge who he really was. Although Pasquale had been in Rome, the fighter didn't know anything more about Marcus than anyone else here at White Cloud. Only a select few knew he was a Sicari Lord. To everyone else on the estate he was a Legatus from the Rome guild who was an expert authority on the Tyet of Isis.

The expert part was true, but the rest was merely to keep the Order from exploding with more tension than there already was in the organization. The revelation that Lysander was half-Praetorian with the skills of a Sicari Lord had created enough of a stir in the Order already. The only thing that made people's eyebrows raise when they met him was his last name. He knew they were wondering about the connection between him and Atia, but no one had dared mention the obvious.

"Marcus Vorenus. Who are you?"

"Cato, member of the Sicari Council." The man's gaze narrowed as he looked at Marcus. "Where do I know you from?"

"You don't," he said in an icy voice before he brushed past the two men and entered the lab.

The lab's temperature was intentionally cool in order to preserve the delicate documents stored in the room. White Cloud's library of research books was extensive, and its lab was one of the best in the States. Atia sat bowed over in a chair, while the body of a man lay sprawled on the floor behind her. Bent over Atia, the Celeris was rubbing her back in a comforting manner.

The sight sent fury streaking through Marcus. Firmani might be Atia's bodyguard, but the man was taking liberties Marcus didn't like. Food, milk, and a tray lay on the floor where someone had dropped them, and he stepped around the mess. As he moved forward, Atia's head jerked up. The moment her gaze met his, she was on her feet and running toward him.

It was a moment of intense jubilation and relief. He was the one she needed and wanted, not Firmani.

He pulled her into a tight embrace as she buried her face in his shoulder. Over her head, he met the gaze of the Celeris. The devastation on the man's face made Marcus feel sorry for him. It was obvious he loved Atia, and Marcus understood what losing her would feel like.

The pain on Firmani's face quickly vanished, and Marcus didn't have to read the man's mind to know the bodyguard hated him. Burrowed deep into his chest, Atia was trembling hard, and he was certain it wasn't from the chilly temperature. It was most likely shock.

"It's all right, mea kara. I'm here now," he murmured as he stroked her hair. Despite the whitish silver color, it was as silky as the day they first met. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." Her answer was muffled in his shirt.

"Tell me what happened."

Although her tremors had eased somewhat, she remained pressed against his chest, and he waited patiently. When she didn't respond to his command, an uneasy sensation slid through him. It wasn't like her to act so frightened.

Even when the Praetorians had taken Gabriel, she'd exhibited a steely strength in her determination to find their son. If the death of their son had stripped her of that fortitude, Nicostratus had one more crime to pay for. After a long moment, she lifted her head, and the expression of fear on her face made his gut tighten.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came down to the lab to study the document we found in the Tyet of Isis. When I arrived, the lights were out. Sandro always comes to the lab early, and I sensed something was wrong." She shuddered and closed her eyes for a brief moment. "I almost called for help then, but I told myself Sandro had simply taken the morning off. When I turned on the lights, that's when I saw him."

"Did you see anyone? Hear anything?" The thought that the murderer might have been anywhere near her made his gut twist viciously with fear.

"No. At first I thought Sandro had just collapsed, but then I saw the blood on the floor." She blanched at the statement, and he knew she was reliving that moment. "I knew there was only one reason why someone would kill him, so I immediately checked the lockbox to make sure the Tyet of Isis document wasn't missing. It was still where I'd left it yesterday."

"What about Pasquale? Where did he come from?"

"Luciano was on duty in the security control room. It was the Vigilavi girl who always brings Sandro breakfast who sounded the alarm. I didn't know she'd come into the room until she dropped the tray and screamed." Atia pulled away from him and pressed her fingertips into her temple. It seemed natural for Marcus to automatically reach out with his thoughts to caress the spot. Her hand fell downward until it came to rest on his arm. "Before I could stop her, the girl panicked and went screaming for help. Pasquale arrived a couple of minutes later. That's when I went to Sandro and . . ."

As her voice trailed off into nothing, she breathed in a deep, shuddering breath. It was a sound that made his heart ache for the harrowing emotions he sensed in her. It wasn't just that she was in shock or upset at the death of a man he knew had been her friend. There was something else underlying the fragile control she was clinging to by a thread.

"There's something you're not telling me," he said quietly.

"It's . . . I can't tell you . . . I have to show you."

She pulled away from him then led him toward Sandro's body. The moment he saw the researcher, he went rigid at the sight of a familiar backward C over a diagonal line carved into the man's cheek. The incomplete Chi-Rho mark Gabriel had used on all his murder victims was one he'd never expected to see again.

"Fotte," he rasped.

For a brief second he wondered if perhaps he'd dreamt killing his own son as he stared down at the mark. He knew better. He and Atia had quietly held a Rogalis for Gabriel at Palazzo al Mare the day after the battle in the Pantheon. This was someone else's work. Someone who either didn't know Gabriel was dead or was sending a message. Either way, Sandro's death told him that Nicostratus's reach was far greater than he'd feared.

"I don't understand . . . The murderer didn't even try to take the document." Atia's voice wavered as she looked up at him.

"You, or something else, startled the intruder. The Praetorians know that document might shift the balance of power if we decipher it," he said grimly as he looked around the lab. "Is there another way out of here?"

"Yes, through the dark lab." She shook her head. "But there wasn't anyone here when I arrived. I'm sure of it."

"Can you think of any other reason why someone would want to kill the man?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "He was well liked by everyone."

"Then we can only assume that whoever killed Sandro was working for the Praetorians, which means we have a traitor among us." His dark words made Atia draw in a sharp breath.

"That's not possible."

"Then how else do you explain the man's death, carissima?"

"I can't," Atia said in a whisper.

He watched her as she struggled with the knowledge that there was a viper in her house and they didn't know where. She rubbed at her temple again, and he longed to help ease her pain, but instinct said she'd only resent his touch at the moment. He looked down at the dead man again.

"Who else has seen the mutilation?"

"Just Ignacio, Pasquale, myself, and now you," Atia replied.

"The Vigilavi?" His abrupt question made her shake her head.

"She didn't get any farther than where she dropped Sandro's breakfast tray." Atia's gaze shifted toward the mess on the floor just inside the research lab's doorway. Marcus looked at Atia's bodyguard.

"We need to have the man prepared for the Rogalis with as few people seeing his body as possible. Murder is one thing, but this mark will create widespread panic," he said grimly. "We have no choice but to trust Pasquale, since he's already seen the body. Do you have one or two men you can rely on to keep their mouths shut?"

"Yes." Firmani nodded abruptly then looked at Atia. "Benedict? Fabrizio's only been with us a little more than a year."

"Yes, Benedict is completely loyal to me." Atia nodded her head as she looked at Marcus. Color had returned to her face, and she looked far more composed now. With his thoughts, he lightly brushed his fingers across her cheek. She frowned slightly but didn't say anything as he turned back to Firmani.

"You need to move the man's body quickly. In the meantime, Atia will address the residents and call a special meeting of the Council." Marcus turned his head as Atia uttered a small gasp.

"A special meeting . . . ? But I don't-"

"You don't have much choice," he growled. "There's a belligerent little worm outside who I've no doubt will cause trouble otherwise."

"Cato." Atia and her Celeris said the name simultaneously and with equal disgust.

"That's the one," he said in a sharp tone as he remembered the Council member's self-importance. If the man had had any idea who he was talking to, Marcus was certain the obnoxious toad's attitude would have been completely different.

"Marcus is right, Ignacio. I need to meet with the Council and reassure the rest of the estate's residents. If you'll see to Sandro and his Rogalis, I'll deal with Cato." Her voice was strong and commanding as she turned toward Marcus. "Do you think we should find a safer storage place for the document?"

It was a good question, and he frowned. If the document were less fragile, he would have been inclined to say yes, but the research lab had been designed to protect ancient artifacts. It was still the best place to keep the document. He shook his head.

"This is the safest option available to us. Once Firmani has seen to the body, I'll work on making improvements to the security system in the room."

"His name was Sandro," she bit out in a tight voice. He flinched as he realized his pragmatism had made him seem uncaring. Marcus bowed slightly toward her.

"Forgive me, mea kara. I meant no disrespect to Sandro." His jaw tightened as she nodded sharply at him before turning back to her Celeris.

"Ignacio, take care with him."

Her voice softened as she glanced down at the dead man then turned and left the room. As she walked away, his senses picked up on Firmani's malicious satisfaction. Slowly, he turned his head toward the man. The small smile on the Celeris's face disappeared as Marcus eyed him with a cold calculation.

"You heard the Prima Consul. See to the man's body." His command made Firmani stiffen, but the Celeris nodded sharply then pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket and tapped on the screen. Marcus didn't bother waiting to ensure the man followed Atia's instructions. He was certain Firmani would do as he was told, and not just because the Prima Consul had ordered him to.

Firmani was too much in love with Atia to refuse her. What if she cared for the Celeris, too? The thought made Marcus's entire body grow rigid with jealous tension. Little more than two weeks ago when he'd found Atia at La Terrazza del Ninfeo in Rome, she'd defended Firmani. She'd pleaded for the man's life. Had that been because she was in love with her Celeris?

She'd mentioned breaking their blood bond that morning before Firmani had even showed up. His gut knotted at the possibility. No. He couldn't believe that. Just a few minutes ago, when Marcus entered the lab, he'd been the one she'd run to, not Firmani. He was the one she'd clung to. It had been his arms Atia had sought solace in, not those of her Celeris.

A grim smile twisted his lips as he crossed the room toward the locked cabinet that held the Tyet of Isis document. He would win her back. He wouldn't fail in that task. He'd spent too many years dreaming about her and how he would regain her love after Dante became the new Sicari Lord. He would not lose her now.