Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Marina
Light filters through unfamiliar curtains.
I blink.
The ceiling is wrong. Too high. Too white. The bed is too soft, the sheets too smooth against my skin.
Then I remember.
The attack. The gunfire. Dante throwing me behind the couch. The SUV. The elevator. Sophia's arms around me.
I turn my head.
Dante is lying next to me.
Watching me.
His dark eyes are fixed on my face.
He doesn't look away when I catch him.
Doesn't pretend he wasn't watching.
Just keeps those eyes locked on mine.
My hand moves.
Reaches for him.
My fingers brush his jaw. The stubble is rough against my palm. He's warm. Solid. Real.
Dante shifts closer.
His hand cups the back of my neck, gentle but firm, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is soft.
Tender.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
"How are you?"
His voice is rough. Low.
I don't know how to answer.
How am I?
"What time is it?"
Dante's thumb strokes the side of my neck.
"Morning. A little after seven."
I look past him.
The bedroom is empty except for us. The door is closed. The penthouse beyond it is silent.
"Where is everyone?"
"Gone."
I push myself up on my elbow.
"Gone where?"
"Lorenzo took Sophia back to Chicago." Dante sits up slowly, wincing as the movement pulls at his wound. "He wanted her out of Denver. Away from the cartel's reach."
"And you didn't go with them?"
Dante's jaw tightens.
He doesn't answer immediately.
Instead, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits there, his back to me, his shoulders tense. The morning light catches the scars on his skin. The fresh bandage on his side. The way his muscles coil like he's holding something back.
"Dante."
He sighs.
The sound is heavy. Exhausted.
"If I leave," he says quietly, "they follow me to Chicago."
I sit up fully.
"What do you mean?"
"The cartel." He turns his head, looking at me over his shoulder.
"They're not after Denver. They're not after territory or money or business.
They're after me. Specifically. Personally.
If I go back to Chicago," Dante continues, "I lead them straight to everyone I care about.
Pietro. Nora. Lorenzo. Sophia. Bruno and Antonella. Nico and Kristen. The entire family."
"So you're staying here."
He turns fully, facing me. "There's an option. For you."
My stomach drops.
"What option?"
"You could go with them." His voice is careful. Measured. "To Chicago. Lorenzo offered. Sophia wants you there. You'd be protected. Surrounded by family. Safe."
I stare at him.
"You want me to leave?"
"I'm asking if you want to leave."
"That's not an answer."
Dante's hands curl into fists on his thighs.
"Marina—"
"No." I shake my head. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to give me options without telling me what you actually want."
He's silent for a long moment.
Then he looks at me.
Really looks at me.
"I want you safe," he says.
"But?"
"But if you go to Chicago..." He exhales. "If you go to Chicago, there's a chance they follow you too."
My blood runs cold.
"What?"
"The cartel knows about you now. They know you matter to me. They know I came to your door."
"So I'm a target."
"If you stay in Denver," Dante continues, "you're in danger because I'm here. If you go to Chicago, you're in danger because they might follow. Either way—"
"Either way, I'm in danger because of you."
He flinches.
Actually flinches.
Like I've struck him.
"Yes."
I pull my knees to my chest.
Wrap my arms around them.
Try to make myself smaller.
"Then why are you giving me this choice?" I ask. "If both options end with me being hunted, why does it matter where I am?"
Dante is quiet.
Too quiet.
"Because in Chicago," he finally says, "you'd be surrounded by people who can protect you. Lorenzo. Nico. Bruno. The entire family. You'd have resources. Security. A fortress."
"And here?"
"Here you'd have me."
I look at him.
Really look at him.
The man who tracked me for two years. The man who showed up bleeding on my doorstep. The man who kissed me like I was oxygen and held me while I cried and told me things he's never told anyone.
The man who is offering to let me go.
"You're asking me to choose," I say slowly. "Between the safety of numbers and the safety of you."
"I'm asking you to choose what's best for you."
"Why did you propose this?" I cut him off. "Why give me the option to go to Chicago if you know they might follow me there? Why put your family at risk?"
He doesn't answer.
"Dante."
"Because I needed to ask." His voice cracks. Just slightly. Just enough for me to hear. "Because I needed to give you the choice. Because if something happens to you and I never gave you the option to leave, I'll never forgive myself."
Dante
Marina's eyes search my face.
Looking for something.
I don't know what she finds.
"What happened?" she asks. "After I fell asleep. What did Lorenzo tell you?"
I should lie.
Should protect her from this.
But I'm tired of lies. Tired of half-truths and careful omissions. She deserves to know what she's caught in the middle of.
"The man who killed my family," I say. "His name is Alejandro Mendoza."
Marina goes still.
"The cartel leader?"
"Yes."
I watch her process this. Watch the pieces click together behind her eyes.
"He's the one who..." She trails off. "He's the one who pulled the trigger?"
"He was a contract killer back then." My voice sounds distant. Like it belongs to someone else. "Someone hired him to eliminate my family."
Marina's hand finds mine.
Her fingers are cold.
"Why now?" she asks. "Why come after you after all these years?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out."
I tell her everything.
About Giuseppe. About the lie he told me when I was eighteen. About the man I killed in that warehouse, believing I was avenging my family. About Diego Mendoza—Alejandro's cousin—and how Giuseppe used my pain to eliminate a rival.
Marina's grip tightens with every word.
"So Giuseppe knew," she says. "He knew who really killed your family, and he used you anyway."
"He was the Don. He did what he thought was necessary."
"That's not an excuse."
"No." I meet her eyes. "It's not."
I continue.
Tell her about Webb. About how the debt was manufactured. How the entire Denver operation was a trap designed to lure me here. How the cartel knew about her—knew I would come to her if things went wrong.
"They used me as bait," Marina says flatly.
"They anticipated my weakness."
"I'm not your weakness."
"You're the only thing that makes me weak."
She doesn't respond to that.
Just keeps holding my hand.
"What else?" she asks. "There's more. I can see it."
Christ.
She reads me too well.
"Vittoria has been investigating Giuseppe's old files for years," I say.
"Three months ago, she accessed something.
We don't know what. But the timing lines up.
Alejandro only started moving against us after that.
I think she found something Giuseppe buried.
Something that led Alejandro to the truth about his cousin. "
Marina is quiet for a long moment.
Processing.
"So the cartel isn't just after revenge for Diego," she says slowly. "They're after you specifically because you're the one who pulled the trigger."
"Yes."
"And they've been planning this for months."
"At least."
"And now they know about me."
My jaw clenches.
"Yes."
Marina pulls her hand from mine.
Wraps her arms around her knees again.
Makes herself small.
I hate it.
Hate that I've done this to her.
"What did Lorenzo order you to do?" she asks.
"Stay put."
Her head snaps up.
"Stay put?"
"Nico's team is handling the cartel's Denver operations. They're dismantling everything—supply chains, safe houses, personnel. Lorenzo wants me to recover from my wound while they work."
"And after?"
"After, we reassess."
Marina studies me.
"Are you going to stay put?"
I don't answer.
Can't answer.
Because the truth is, I don't know. The truth is, every instinct I have is screaming at me to hunt. To find Alejandro Mendoza and put a bullet between his eyes.
But Marina is here.
Marina is in danger because of me.
And if I leave—if I go hunting—I leave her unprotected.
"Dante."
Her voice pulls me back.
"Are you going to stay put?"
I look at her.
I don't answer her question.
Instead, I move.
Close the distance between us.
Cup her face in my hands.
And kiss her.
She gasps against my mouth.
Her hands come up—to push me away or pull me closer, I don't know—and then they're fisting in my shirt, dragging me toward her.
I deepen the kiss.
Taste her.
Coffee and sleep and something sweet underneath.
Marina moans.
The sound goes straight through me.
Straight to my cock.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen. Her eyes are dark. Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.
"That's not an answer," she whispers.
"I know."
"You can't just kiss me every time you don't want to talk."
"I know."
"Dante—"
I kiss her again.
Harder this time.
More demanding.
She moans again, louder, and her fingers dig into my shoulders. I push her back against the pillows, careful of my wound, covering her body with mine.
Her legs part.
I settle between them.
The heat of her burns through the thin fabric separating us.
"This isn't fair," she breathes against my mouth.
"I know."
"You're avoiding the question."
"I know."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
She pulls back.
Looks at me.
Her eyes are wet.
"No," she admits. "I don't."
I brush a strand of hair from her face.
Trace the line of her jaw with my thumb.
"I don't know if I can stay put," I tell her honestly. "I don't know if I can sit here while Nico's team does the work I should be doing. I don't know if I can watch from the sidelines while the man who murdered my family walks free."
"But?"
"But you're here." I press my forehead to hers. "And I can't leave you unprotected. I can't walk out that door knowing you're alone. I can't—"
My voice breaks.
I hate it.
Hate the weakness.
But Marina's hand comes up.
Cups my cheek.
"Then don't," she says simply.