Antonio
Vigo’s insistence that Dante and I attend his so-called party doesn’t sit right. He’s always thrown lavish gatherings packed with women, booze, and excess—but never anything like this. These women aren’t here by choice. Trafficked women are a new filthy byproduct of his deal with the DeLuca Famiglia .
The thought makes me sick, but what bothers me more is how hard he’s pushing for us to be there. That bastard’s too savvy to demand something like this without a reason. He knows damn well that a Capo and his underboss don’t go to a meeting unguarded. At the very least we should be in the area keeping eyes on the situation. So why the hell is he so desperate to get us to the hotel tonight?
Yet, here we are, walking into his trap—or at least what feels like one.
“I’m going to follow them,” I say, my eyes scanning the road ahead as unease coils tighter in my chest.
“You can’t,” Dante snaps back. “Valentino was so damn insistent on us going to this party. If we don’t show, someone’s going to notice, and they’ll report back. I’m sure he’s covered all his bases.”
A tight knot forms in my gut. “I don’t like this.”
Dante’s expression mirrors my own tension. “I don’t like it either, but whatever’s happening, we have to play along. There’s one thing Valentino missed,” Dante says, holding his phone so I can see the screen. “The trackers on the cars. Once we’ve made our appearance, I’ll slip away.”
“I’m going with you.”
“We both can’t leave. It’ll look too suspicious,” he warns, glancing around the room before fixing his eyes on me.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
“Anton,” Dante says firmly, his voice drawing my focus back to him. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”
* * *
The party is as revolting as I thought it would be. The women are here, but they’re not guests. They’re prisoners, their eyes hollow, bodies moving as if they’ve lost the will to live. I sit off to the side, nursing a glass of whiskey, watching our men. Some of them are taking advantage of the women. I make a mental note of who they are. When the time comes, they’ll regret this.
But the smarter ones see what’s going on. Instead of indulging, they’re making sure the women have food, water, and safety. At least for tonight.
My phone buzzes on the bar.
Dad: Something’s wrong. The driver left the route.
: Did he say why?
Dad: He has the divider up and locked.
Fuck. I shoot to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest. Without a word, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. I hit Dante’s number. Two rings, then it connects.
“Where are you?” I bark.
“We’re ten minutes behind them, but the signal just went dead,” Dante says, his voice tense.
“My father texted. The driver left the usual route to the warehouse district. They locked the divider. Something very fucking wrong.”
“We’ve got two cars on them. They can’t be that far,” Dante replies, his voice low and resolute.
The phone buzzes again. My father’s calling. I quickly answer and merge the call with Dante.
“Where are you?” I demand.
“East Oregon,” Dad says, his voice tight. “The railyards are coming up ahead.”
“We’re on our way,” Dante cuts in.
“The door locks engaged. I can’t open them. I’m stuck in here.”
He pounds on the glass. “Rico, open the fucking divider.” His voice is muffled, thick with panic, but I hear it clearly through the phone. It’s no use—the divider is soundproof. The driver either can’t hear him or doesn’t care.
“Dante, where the hell are you?” I shout.
“South Delaware. We’re going to cut them off,” Dante replies, urgency lining his words.
Dad’s voice drops, cold and grim. “Vigo set me up. Promise me you’ll take care of your mother and Cecilia, Anton.”
“No,” I say, grabbing the back of my neck, panic starting to rise. “You’ll be fine. Dante’s on his way. He’ll get you out.”
Tires screech in the background.
“Anton, promise me,” Dad yells.
Before I can answer, gunshots ring out.
Glass shatters.
My heart stops.
“Dad! Dad!”
The line goes dead. The silence on the other end is suffocating.
I slam my fist into the wall. My mind races with fear and fury. This can’t be happening. Not to my father.
“Dante, move faster,” I shout into the phone, desperation clawing at me.
“We’ve got eyes on them,” Dante’s voice comes through strained.
More gunfire echoes through the phone, the sound of screeching tires filling the void. Dante’s voice rises over the chaos, sharp and commanding.
“Return fire,” he orders. “Don’t let that bastard get away.”
I pace the hallway, helpless, my heart racing. Every second feels like an eternity.
“What’s happening, Dante?” I demand, my voice cracking.
“We got Rico before he could make a run for it,” Dante says, gunfire still crackling in the background. “The others took off as soon as it went down, but Rocco and Brian are on their tail.”
Minutes drag by, filled with the distant sounds of the firefight. My mind is a whirlwind, bouncing between rage and fear.
Suddenly, the gunfire stops. Dante’s heavy breathing fills the silence. Gravel crunches under his boots as he steps out of the car.
Then, there’s a long, agonizing pause.
“Fuck,” Dante roars, his voice raw with fury.
“Dante, what’s going on?” My voice shakes, and I struggle to catch my breath.
Dante’s voice, barely a whisper, breaks through the phone. “Rico’s still alive. But your father. Rico got to him first, Anton. He’s dead.”
“No, no, no,” I murmur, sinking to my knees. The world blurs, my mind refusing to accept the reality. “He can’t be dead. Dante, he can’t be.”
“I didn’t get here in time,” Dante says, his voice cracking with guilt. “This was too organized. It all happened so fast, and I was too late.”
I bite back a sob, tears stinging my eyes. My knuckles turn white as I grip the phone. I already know who gave the order. I’ve known it in my gut since the moment Vigo told us his crazy plan. But hearing it out loud—that’s what will make it real.
“Who ordered it?” I demand, my voice barely above a whisper.
There’s a shuffle of movement, and I hear Dante ask, “Who gave the order, Rico?”
“Valentino,” Rico coughs, his voice strained.
The name is like a dagger to my heart. “Kill him,” I say coldly.
A single gunshot rings through the line.
Dante’s breathing is ragged as he comes back on the phone. “It’s done.”
Tears stream down my face as I choke out, “He was set up. Valentino set us all up.”
“I know,” Dante’s voice is rough with emotion. “We’ll make him pay for this. But right now, you need to get out of there. Rico turned on your father, and we don’t know who else might be involved. You’re not safe.”
“I don’t give a damn about safe,” I growl, my grief turning to rage. “I want blood.”
“We will,” Dante promises, his voice steady, though laced with pain. “But not like this. Marco wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed in a fit of blind rage.”
His words hit me hard. I take a breath and force myself to stay grounded. “Fine,” I manage through clenched teeth. “But Dante, I swear—Valentino will pay for this. Every single one of them will.”
“We’ll make it happen,” Dante replies, his voice unwavering. “I’m coming to get you.”
The reality of my father’s death crashes into me like a tidal wave, and I collapse to the floor in the hallway. Valentino—my cousin, the man I’ve spent my life protecting, betrayed me. Every time he asked for my loyalty, I gave it willingly. And this is how he repays me? He killed my father.
But this isn’t over. Not even close.
I will avenge my father’s death.
I will take down Valentino and anyone who stands with him.
They will all pay.