Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dante
Lorenzo sets his glass down.
The crystal clicks against the table.
"Bruno has ordered me not to tell you anything."
The words hang in the air.
I stare at him.
Bruno.
The Don.
My Don.
"Why?"
Lorenzo doesn't answer immediately.
He picks up his glass again. Swirls the whiskey. Watches the amber liquid catch the light from the city outside.
"Because he knows what you'll do when you hear it."
My chest tightens.
If he's ordered Lorenzo to keep me in the dark, it means whatever he's about to say will unleash something Bruno doesn't want unleashed.
Not yet.
Not like this.
"Tell me anyway."
Lorenzo sighs.
He runs a hand through his hair.
For a moment, he looks tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes. The kind that settles into your bones and stays there.
"I'm probably going to regret this," he says quietly. "Bruno's going to have my head."
"Lorenzo."
He meets my eyes.
"But I'll regret it more if I hide it from you." He takes a breath. "You deserve to know. After everything. You deserve the truth."
The truth.
I've built my life on truths. Hard truths. Ugly truths. The kind of truths that leave scars.
But something in Lorenzo's voice tells me this truth is different.
This truth is going to break something.
"The Mendoza cartel," Lorenzo begins. "Their leader. The man running the operation."
He stops.
Swallows.
"His name is Alejandro Mendoza. He took over the cartel fifteen years ago after his father died. Before that, he was running operations in Sicily."
Sicily.
The word hits me like a fist to the chest.
"What operations?"
Lorenzo doesn't look away.
"Contract killings. Eliminations. Cleaning up loose ends for people who could afford his prices."
My hands are shaking.
I don't know when they started.
"Twenty-four years ago," Lorenzo continues, his voice steady, "Alejandro Mendoza was hired to eliminate a low-level soldato in Chicago. A man who had made enemies. A man with a wife. Two sons."
No.
"The job was supposed to be clean. Quick. But something went wrong. The target hid his oldest son before the team arrived. The gun jammed when they tried to finish the job."
No.
No.
"Dante."
I can't breathe.
"The man who killed your family," Lorenzo says. "Alejandro Mendoza."
I stand.
The movement is automatic. Instinctive. My body reacting before my mind can process what I've just heard.
The room tilts.
My wound screams.
I don't feel it.
I don't feel anything except the roaring in my ears and the memories flooding back—
The closet door. The crack of light. My mother's scream cutting off mid-breath. Lucio. Lucio crying for mama. The gunshot. The silence. The footsteps coming closer. The gun against my temple. The click of the hammer. The jam.
"Dante."
A hand on my shoulder.
Nico.
I didn't hear him enter the room.
"You need to sit down," he says. "Now."
His grip is firm. Not aggressive. Grounding.
I sit.
My legs give out more than I choose to lower myself.
The leather catches me.
I stare at the floor.
"That doesn't make sense."
My voice sounds wrong. Distant. Like it's coming from somewhere outside my body.
"Giuseppe told me he found them." I look up at Lorenzo. "He said he found the men responsible. We went there. I killed him. I killed the bastard who murdered my family."
I was eighteen.
Giuseppe had called me into his office. Told me he had a gift for me. Told me he'd spent two years tracking down the men who destroyed my life.
We drove to a warehouse on the south side of Chicago.
There was a man tied to a chair.
Giuseppe handed me a gun.
"This is the man who gave the order," he said. "This is the man who took everything from you."
I shot him.
I shot him six times.
Once for my father.
Once for my mother.
Once for Lucio.
Three more because I couldn't stop pulling the trigger.
Lorenzo was there.
He stood in the corner of that warehouse and watched me empty the clip into a stranger's chest.
He never said a word.
"You were there," I say now. "You saw me kill him. You saw—"
"I know."
Lorenzo's voice is heavy.
"I know what you did. I know what Giuseppe told you."
He pauses.
"Giuseppe lied."
The words don't register.
They bounce off something inside me. Some wall I didn't know existed.
"What?"
"The man in that warehouse wasn't the one who killed your family." Lorenzo leans forward. "He was a rival. Someone Giuseppe wanted eliminated. He used your pain to do it. He gave you a target and called it justice."
I can't move.
I can't think.
Twenty years.
Eighteen years I believed I had avenged my family.
Eighteen years I carried the weight of that killing like a badge. Like proof that I had done something. That their deaths meant something. That the monster who took them had paid.
And it was a lie.
All of it.
A lie.
"How do you know?"
The words scrape out of my throat.
Raw.
Broken.
Lorenzo exchanges a glance with Nico.
Something passes between them. Some silent communication I'm too shattered to decode.
"Webb," Nico says.
He moves to the window. Stands with his back to the glass. Arms crossed.
"Webb was the bait."
I stare at him.
"I don't understand."
"Webb is good with computers." Nico's voice is flat. Analytical. "Very good. As good as Vittoria."
Vittoria.
The family's tech genius.
The woman who can hack into anything. Find anyone. Uncover secrets buried so deep they should never see daylight.
"Vittoria's been digging," Lorenzo continues. "For years now. Ever since the second family thing came out, she's been going through Giuseppe's old files. His contacts. His deals. Trying to understand the full scope of what our father built."
He pauses.
"She struggled. A lot. Giuseppe was careful. He compartmentalized everything. Kept secrets from everyone, including his own children."
"What does this have to do with Webb?"
"Webb didn't just borrow money." Nico turns from the window. "He was placed. The debt was manufactured to bring you here."
The room spins.
"To bring me here?"
"You've never come to Denver officially," Lorenzo says. "Not once in twenty years. You've passed through. Done jobs in surrounding areas. But Denver? Never on the books."
"They knew," I say slowly. "They knew I would come if the job was here."
"They knew more than that." Lorenzo's jaw tightens. "They knew about Marina."
My blood turns to ice.
"How?"
"We don't know. Not yet." He shakes his head. "But they knew you were watching her. They knew you would come to Denver for the Webb job. And they knew that if things went wrong, you would go to her."
They set a trap.
And I walked right into it.
"Giuseppe," I say. "You said he was working with the Mendoza cartel."
Lorenzo nods.
"Back then. Twenty-four years ago. Before the cartel moved their operations to Mexico. When Alejandro's father was still running things."
"And the man in the warehouse?"
"Alejandro's cousin."
The words hit me like bullets.
One after another.
"His name was Diego Mendoza." Nico's voice is clinical. Detached. "He was twenty-six years old. He had a wife. A daughter. He was being groomed to take over a portion of the family's European operations."
I killed him because Giuseppe told me he murdered my family.
And it was a lie.
"Why?" My voice cracks. "Why would Giuseppe want him dead?"
"We don't know." Lorenzo spreads his hands. "That's the part that doesn't make sense. Giuseppe could have killed Diego himself. He had the resources. The men. The opportunity. But for some reason, he wanted you to do it."
"He wanted me to pull the trigger."
"Yes."
I think about that night.
The warehouse.
The smell of rust and blood and fear.
The man in the chair, begging in a language I didn't understand.
Giuseppe's hand on my shoulder.
"This is justice, Dante. This is closure. This is what you've been waiting for."
I believed him.
I believed every word.
And I emptied a gun into an innocent man's chest.
"Giuseppe's been dead for years," I say. "We can't ask him why."
"No." Lorenzo's voice is heavy. "We can't."
"But Alejandro knows."
Nico nods.
"Alejandro has probably known for eighteen years that you killed his cousin. He's been waiting. Planning. Building his empire in Mexico while he watched you from a distance."
"Why now?" I look between them. "Why wait this long?"
"Because now he has leverage." Lorenzo meets my eyes. "Marina."
The name hits me like a physical blow.
"They weren't trying to kill me in that office," I realize. "They were trying to capture me."
"The cleanup crew arrived too fast," Nico confirms. "They weren't there to dispose of bodies. They were there to collect you. Alive."
"But I got away."
"You got away. And you went straight to her."
"They tracked me to her apartment."
"Yes."
"The sniper. The attack tonight."
I stand again.
This time my legs hold.
This time the rage burning through my veins gives me strength instead of stealing it.
"Where is Alejandro Mendoza?"
"Dante—"
"Where?"
Lorenzo doesn't answer.
Nico steps forward.
"Bruno gave specific orders," he says. "You are not to engage. You are not to hunt. You are to recover and protect Marina while we handle the cartel's Denver operations."
"Bruno can go to hell."
"Dante." Lorenzo rises. "Listen to me. I know what you're feeling right now. I know what this information does to a person. But if you go after Alejandro half-healed with a bullet wound in your side, you will die."
I grab my head with both hands.
Press my palms against my temples.
The pressure doesn't help.
Nothing helps.
"This doesn't make sense."
My voice comes out raw. Broken.
"What doesn't make sense?" Lorenzo asks.
"All of it." I look up at him. "Everything you just told me. None of it adds up."
Lorenzo frowns.
"Dante—"
"No. Listen to me." I stand. Pace. "You're telling me Alejandro Mendoza has known for eighteen years that I killed his cousin. That he's been watching me. Waiting. Planning."
"Yes."
"Then why am I still alive?"
Lorenzo opens his mouth.
Closes it.
"They could have ended me a hundred times," I continue. "A thousand times. I've been exposed. Vulnerable. I've walked into situations alone. I've slept in hotels with minimal security. I've driven through territories where the Sartoris have no reach."
I stop pacing.
Turn to face them both.
"That's not how people in our world operate. You don't wait eighteen years for revenge. You don't build an empire and bide your time while the man who killed your blood walks free. You eliminate the threat. You send a message. You make an example."
Nico's expression shifts.
"Dante's right." Nico uncrosses his arms. "The timeline doesn't work. If Alejandro knew Dante killed Diego, he would have acted years ago. Decades ago. The cartel had the resources. The reach. They could have taken Dante out before he ever became valuable to us."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying Alejandro didn't know." I meet Lorenzo's eyes. "Not until recently. Something changed. Something tipped him off."
Lorenzo runs a hand through his hair.
"Webb," he says slowly. "Webb was placed here three months ago. The debt was manufactured. The trap was set."
"Three months." I nod. "That's when Alejandro found out. That's when he started planning."
"But how?" Lorenzo spreads his hands. "How would he find out after all this time? Giuseppe is dead. The men who were in that warehouse are dead. The only people who knew the truth were—"
He stops.
His face goes pale.
"Were who?" I demand.
"Giuseppe's files." Lorenzo's voice is barely above a whisper. "Vittoria's been digging through them. She's been accessing old servers. Old contacts. Old records."
"You think she triggered something?"
"I don't know." He shakes his head. "I don't know anything. I'm just—I'm assuming. I'm guessing. I'm trying to piece together fragments of information that don't fit together."
"If they knew where Marina lived," I say slowly, "they could have come for her on day one. The moment I left her hospital room two years ago. The moment I started watching her. They could have used her against me at any point."
"Maybe they didn't know about her until—"
"Until what? Until I showed up bleeding on her doorstep?
" I laugh. The sound is hollow. Bitter. "That's convenient timing, don't you think?
They set a trap in Denver. They knew I would come.
They knew I would go to her if things went wrong.
But they didn't know where she lived until I led them there? "
Lorenzo is silent.
Nico is silent.
The penthouse is silent.
"There's something else going on here," I say. "Something we're not seeing. Something that connects all of this in a way that actually makes sense."
"We'll find it." Lorenzo's voice is steady. Determined. "Vittoria is still digging. Nico's team is interrogating the men we captured tonight. We'll get answers."
"When?"
"Soon."
"Soon isn't good enough."
"It's all we have."
I want to hit something.
I want to break something.
I want to wrap my hands around someone's throat and squeeze until the rage burning through my veins finds somewhere to go.
But there's no one here to hurt.
No enemy to destroy.
Just my brothers standing in front of me with empty hands and incomplete answers.
The bedroom door opens.
Sophia steps out.
She looks exhausted. Dark circles under her eyes. She's wearing one of Lorenzo's shirts, the sleeves rolled up past her wrists.