Chapter 23 Dante #2
Nicolo isn’t the type to ask questions. He gets his job done regardless of the circumstances. He erases people without having to kill them. Some would suggest that’s much more impressive than what I do.
I press the call button and hold it up to my ear. He answers on the fourth ring.
His voice is smooth, cultured in an ambiguous way so as to not pin him down to one discernible nation. His tone is faintly amused when he addresses me. “Dante. I’m surprised to hear from you… and so late at night. To what do I owe the occasion?”
I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I lean back against the cold hospital wall and run my tongue along the back of my teeth, buying myself a few seconds to think. Somewhere down the hall, a nurse laughs softly, unaware that a single word from me could alter three lives forever.
Once I say the word, there’s no undoing this.
As soon as I hand over Elena and Luca’s information, Nicolo will erase them completely from existence.
He will make them disappear so thoroughly, it will be as though they were never here at all.
New identities. New continent. New language if necessary.
Every record scrubbed, every connection severed.
The Cosenza name will vanish from their orbit like it never existed at all.
They will no longer be tied to anyone, me included.
If I ever tried to trace them, I would find nothing but dead ends. That is the cost of a guarantee in Nicolo’s world. I will never be able to find them again.
It is his expertise.
One I have relied on before without hesitation.
“You’ve been busy,” Nicolo continues lightly when I remain silent. “Word travels. Palermo seemed… eventful.”
I sigh. Nothing stays contained for long in our world. I’m not surprised he’s heard about my syndicate taking down a former family consigliere and another Don.
“I need a problem removed,” I say finally, my voice flat.
“I assumed as much. Is this a political inconvenience or something more personal?”
My jaw tightens. Images flash unbidden in my mind of Elena on the floor, blood spilling between her fingers as she clutches her open wound and Luca screaming. The sound of the gunshot that almost ended everything haunts me.
“Personal,” I answer.
“Then I assume you want this done thoroughly.”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t ask me to elaborate. “Where are you?”
“Private wing at St. Catherine’s. Room 412.”
“On my way.”
I end the call and scratch my head back against the wall. My reflection stares back at me in the window across the way. Dark circles and hollow eyes are all that I see. I look like a man who’s already lost everything.
By the time Nicolo arrives, the sky outside is turning the bruised gray of false dawn.
He’s dressed like he’s going to a funeral—black coat, black gloves, black pants and shoes.
He has the same defined features that I remember, the same steady gaze he’s had since we were boys running errands for my father.
He stops in front of the chair I’ve claimed in the waiting room. “Talk to me.”
I don’t look at him when I speak. Instead, I stare at the floor between my feet. “The mother of my child and our son… I want you to help them leave.”
He exhales through his nose. “I see. I wasn’t aware you had a child. Congratulations.”
I continue, ignoring the question. The words taste like ash in my mouth.
“I want them both safe. New identities. Clean papers. I don’t want them having to worry about anything coming up if they want to travel.
Put them in a place no one, not even me, can find them. You still have contacts in Lisbon?”
“Better than Lisbon. A small island off the Azores. Quiet. Wealthy expats. They’ll fit right in. It’s beautiful this time of year.”
I nod once, lacing my fingers together, knuckles whitening as I squeeze. I crack them one by one, the small flares of pain helping to anchor me to something physical, something I can control. “Make it happen. I’ll pay your fee once they’re out of the country.”
“Dante.” He says my name differently this time. Not like a contractor taking instruction but like a man watching another step toward the edge of a cliff. “Are you sure about this?”
It’s the first time he’s ever asked me that. Nicolo Baresi does not question decisions. He executes them without restraint. For him to be giving me an out when he has never done so before is… telling.
I must look like hell for him to be that concerned.
When I finally meet his eyes, I nod. “She’s… I know she wants to leave. I just… want her to do it safely. Especially since she’s taking our child with her. If that means leaving me behind, then so be it.”
He studies me for a long moment, then inclines his head. “I’ll need twenty-four hours. Maybe less if I pull some strings tonight.”
My jaw tightens. “She doesn’t know I’m doing this. I’ll create the opening for you to come in tomorrow and talk to her. I… would rather her not know I’m behind this. She’s not likely to trust it if she thinks I’m pulling the strings.”
He doesn’t argue, just clasps my shoulder once with a hard squeeze before nodding and disappearing down the corridor he’d come from.
When I finally return to her room, Elena is still asleep.
I sit in my chair and watch them, soaking them in for as long as I still have them.
Tomorrow, I’ll pretend to take a call and step into the hallway, leaving the door cracked just enough for Nicolo to slip in.
He’ll offer her the escape I can’t give her myself, and if she takes it—if she walks away with our son and never looks back—I’ll let her.
Because loving her means giving her the choice even when that choice breaks me. Even when it means I’ll spend the rest of my life pretending I’m still whole while I walk around with a dead heart.
I lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees and drop my face into my hands.
Tomorrow, I’ll give her the keys to a door I’ll never be able to walk through.
And I will do so because I love her.
The following afternoon, after receiving confirmation from Nicolo that he’s arrived at the hospital, I excuse myself from Elena’s room under the guise of taking an important call.
She’s propped up in bed, the color slowly having returned to her cheeks. Luca is tucked against her side with a toy car I bought down at the gift shop for him this morning clutched in his fist. For a split second, I hesitate at the doorway, my hand resting on the frame longer than necessary.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her. “I’m going to head to the waiting room to take this.”
It’s not technically a lie, but she looks at me like she always does when she senses something shifting beneath the surface. She’s too tired to call it out, though. All she manages to give me is a half smile in return.
I don’t let myself think about that.
I step into the corridor and pull my phone up to my ear, pacing two steps away before leaning back against the wall. My thumb runs against the edge of it, a prop to make this look routine if anyone bothers to glance my way while walking by.
My eyes remain locked on the elevator doors down the hall. When it finally chimes, my heart thuds hard in my chest.
The doors slide open slowly, indifferent to the fact that they’re delivering the man who is about to rip my life in half.
Nicolo steps out with his hands folding inside his coat pockets.
Dressed in tailored all black from head to toe, he looks less like an underworld fixer and more like a diplomat walking into a negotiation.
I hate this.
I hate every second of it.
But I hate the alternative more.
He walks down the hallway with quiet confidence, his shoes barely making a sound against the polished floor. When he passes me, he inclines his head in acknowledgment so subtle, no one else would notice it even if they were watching us.
There’s no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet understanding.
He reaches Elena’s door and doesn’t knock, slipping inside smoothly while pulling the door closed behind him, leaving it cracked just enough for sound to carry. I remain where I am, frozen in place.
“Mrs. Cosenza. It’s a pleasure,” he greets politely.
Elena’s voice answers, confused. “I’m sorry…?”
“My name is Nicolo Baresi,” he continues. “Don’t worry. Your husband doesn’t know I’m here.”
There is a long beat of silence that follows.
Elena has never officially met Nicolo. I made sure of that. Men like him are kept in the shadows for a reason. But she would have known the name. Everyone in our world does. He’s a whisper passed between families. He doesn’t work for any one syndicate.
I can picture exactly what’s happening inside that room.
Elena would be sitting up straighter despite the pain in her side the moment his name registers to her.
Her fingers would instinctively tighten around Luca, suspicion sliding into place like armor while looking Nicolo over, contemplating how safe he actually is.
She’s always been quick like that.
“I heard about what happened with Don Toselli,” Nicolo continues. “Quite tragic that you and your boy were caught in the crossfire.”
“What do you want?” Elena asks.
“I can get you out of Sicily. Out of Italy. New names, new papers, to a place no one will be able to find. You and your boy can start over,” he says simply.
I close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose.
Every instinct I possess screams at me to open that door and drag Nicolo back out into the hallway to tell him it’s off.
That I’ll make sure to burn the Bellantis to ash and hunt down every man who dares to whisper my son’s name if it means Elena will stay.
But that’s the problem. I will fight until it’s over—whether that means the Bellantis or me.
Half a million on Luca’s head is the kind of money that encourages men to die trying.
It may take years, perhaps decades, to rid Sicily of them all.
What kind of life will that be for my son to live through?
As much as I believe in my ability to accomplish wiping them off the face of the Earth, I understand Elena’s hesitation. She almost died because of me. Luca almost lost his mother because of me. If she believes the only way to keep him safe is to vanish, then… I have no right to stop her.
I’ll do anything for her.
Even if that anything means letting her go, spending the rest of my life agonizing over her, pretending I’m still whole while half of me walks around with someone else’s name on another continent.
“I…” Her voice is quieter now. Hesitant. “I don’t know.”
“I’m not asking you to decide right now. Just think about it. You’ve got options. Real ones. If you decide you need to go to keep you both safe, then allow me to help you with safe passage.”
“I’ll… think about it,” she says.
There’s a faint rustle of paper. “My number. Please call at any hour. If you decide you want out, I’ll make it happen.”
I straighten when the door opens again.
I step back quickly, turning toward the vending machine at the end of the hall while adjusting the phone held up to my ear. When Nicolo emerges, he doesn’t look at me. But he does give me a firm hand on my shoulder before walking down the opposite end of the hallway toward the elevators once more.
I wait until he steps back onto the elevator and the doors close behind him before lowering my phone. I push off the wall and shove it into my pocket. Elena is still sitting upright when I enter the room again, staring down at the small white card in her hand.
When she hears me in the doorway, she startles slightly, then slips the card under the sheets tucked over her lap. Her eyes meet mine, guarded.
I pretend I didn’t see. “Everything okay?”
She nods once. “Your call go okay?”
I nod and cross to the chair beside her bed and sit.
Luca is slumped over her lap, his head in her lap.
Her fingers are running through his hair while he fights to keep his eyes open, the toy car still clutched in his hand.
I reach over and brush a piece of his hair off his forehead, then look back at her.
“You look tired,” I say quietly.
“I am.” She gives me a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “But I’m doing okay.”
I take her hand, wrapping both of mine around them.
Though it may take a few days, I know undoubtedly, she will call the number on that card. But until that happens, I’ll take every hour she gives me. I’ll spend every one of them proving that no matter what, my love for her will never change.
Once she walks out that door with a new name and a plane ticket, I won’t stop her. But God help me, I’ll spend the rest of my life wishing I could have been the reason she stayed.