Kanyan (Gatti Enforcers #1)

46. Dante

46

DANTE

T he city never sleeps. It breathes, pulses, rages—a living, restless thing. From the balcony outside my room, the night unfolds before me, a tapestry of shadows and soft whispers weaving through the trees. The weight on my shoulders tonight is heavier than usual, pressing down on me like the humid air before a storm. I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light, but it does nothing to settle the unease thrumming in my chest.

Did I give Kanyan too much, too soon?

It felt right at the time. The logical next step. He had the fire, the strength, the hunger to lead. But there’s something in his eyes now, something he tries to bury beneath his usual silence. I recognize it well enough—I saw the same look in the mirror when I first stepped into my brother’s shoes. That weight, that burden, the unspoken fear of failing everyone who’s counting on you.

Kanyan didn’t ask for this, but neither did I. And yet, I made it work. The same way I know he can, too.

But does he want it bad enough?

I wonder, sometimes, how different things would be if my brother had never died. If I had stayed on my original path—the seminary, the priesthood, a life spent in service of God instead of the family. I was supposed to save souls, not condemn them. I was supposed to offer peace, not wield power. But the day my brother’s body was laid to rest, all of that became irrelevant. I walked out of one world and into another, shed my past like a second skin, and never looked back.

What if? It’s a useless question. A dangerous one. I wouldn’t trade my place now for anything, but the ghosts of old choices still whisper in the back of my mind.

I take another sip of whiskey and let my gaze drift over the night beyond. It’s quiet but chaotic in its own way, even when the city is sleeping. The blood spilled, the shifting alliances, the quiet war that never really ends. Seattle has always been my stronghold, my sanctuary, but part of me wonders—what if I moved here? Would things be different? Would my presence be enough to calm the waters, to enforce order where there is none? Or would it only add another shark to the tank?

The other families need to step up. I’ve been carrying this weight for too long, trying to hold the balance while everyone else plays their games. It’s time they take their share of the burden, time they stop waiting for me to clean up their messes. Stability doesn’t come easy, and it never comes free. There’s a price to be paid, and if we want peace—real peace—we’re going to have to pay our dues.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I call, already knowing who it is.

Kanyan steps inside, his stance firm but shoulders weighed down by the same burden I once carried. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter.

"You needed me?" he asks, voice even.

I study him for a long moment before gesturing to the chair across from me. "Sit. Have a drink."

He hesitates, just for a second, before lowering himself into the seat. I pour him a glass, watching as he takes it without question.

"How are you holding up?" I ask.

His jaw tightens slightly, but he meets my gaze. "I’m handling it."

"You sure about that?" I press. "It’s not an easy thing, Kanyan. Running a family, making decisions that will change lives. You don’t get to step away from this once you’re in."

He exhales sharply. "I know what’s at stake. And I know what’s expected of me. I’m not looking for an easy way out, Dante. I’m here. I’m ready."

I nod slowly, letting his words sink in. "Good. Because this city isn’t going to fix itself. And neither is our family. If you want to prove yourself, now’s the time."

His eyes darken with determination, and for the first time in a long while, I feel the weight on my shoulders shift—just a little. Maybe I didn’t make a mistake after all.

I set my glass down with a quiet clink, my jaw tightening with resolve. I let the silence stretch, let him feel the weight of it. Then, finally, I speak.

"It’s a fickle thing, this game," I tell him, swirling the whiskey in my glass. "Always shifting. The danger is never-ending. Tides are turning."

"It’s to be expected," Kanyan says, his voice steady, but there’s something in his eyes. Doubt. Frustration. A battle waging inside him.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. "Do you know why I chose you, Kanyan?"

He’s silent for the longest time, then gives a short shake of his head, lips pressing into a thin line.

"You reminded me of someone. You reminded me of me. A more lethal version of myself. Refined. Cutthroat. Full of rage burning to escape. And I saw in you—all the possibilities of what this city could become. I still see that."

His fingers tighten around his glass. "I’ve managed to fuck up royally," he mutters, voice edged with bitterness.

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. "If I could tell you all the ways I fucked up when I started out… And that was with a father standing in the shadows, guiding me every step of the way. You? You’re doing this alone, and you’re still standing. You’re not doing so bad. But I need you not to second-guess yourself. I need you to be the monster who came charging into that chapel and single-handedly saved all our asses from the Russians. I know he’s in there somewhere, Kanyan. You just have to bet on yourself."

He exhales sharply, setting his drink down with a quiet thud. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll fight me on this, if he’ll argue, push back. But then, his jaw sets, and I see it—the shift. The flicker of fire behind his eyes. The decision settling into his bones.

Good. That’s the man I need him to be.

I nod once, satisfied. The time for wondering is over. Decisions have to be made. And I’ve never been the kind of man to shy away from the cost.