19. Chapter Nineteen Dante
Chapter Nineteen: Dante
I had something to take care of.
And I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I was afraid.
I pushed the heavy door open, the creak of old hinges slicing through the silence of the night. Marco trailed me, his footsteps a soft echo on the concrete floor. We entered the warehouse, the air stale with the smell of decay—oil and rust, lingering like ghosts of the industrial past. My eyes adjusted to the scant light, flickering bulbs casting more shadows than illumination. This was the heart of our territory, and tonight, it pulsed with the threat of Caruso’s looming shadow.
“Stay sharp,” I muttered to Marco, but he didn’t need the reminder. His gaze was already prowling through the darkness, vigilant for any sign of treachery.
As we moved deeper into the belly of the building, I spotted them—the small gathering of men who were supposed to be my allies. They huddled like rats around an old table, the glow of their cigarettes the only warmth in the place. Their murmurs fell silent as they caught sight of us, the weight of my entrance settling heavily in the room.
I scanned the faces, stopping at Giovanni. He sat there with a smirk, whiskey in hand, as if he owned more than just the dirt under his fingernails. I was glad this was on my turf and not theirs…but they didn’t look like they wanted to have a nice, simple conversation.
Fuck.
“Evening, gentlemen,” I said, voice low but carrying. My suit felt out of place among these worn-out thugs, the fabric too clean, the cut too sharp.
Giovanni raised his glass, his eyes narrowed. “Dante Moretti graces us with his presence. You’re late.”
“Cut the crap, Giovanni,” I shot back, taking a seat across from him, not breaking eye contact. “We’re here for business, not pleasantries.”
Marco settled beside me, silent as ever, but his presence alone spoke volumes. Giovanni’s crew eyed us, uneasy, their hands inching toward hidden weapons beneath jackets and on thighs.
“Let’s get down to it then,” Giovanni drawled, leaning back in his chair. “What’s the big plan, boss?”
The word ‘boss’ hung mockingly in the air, but I let it slide. Tonight wasn’t about egos; it was about survival. Jade’s face flashed in my mind, but I shoved the image aside. There was no room for distraction, not when every decision could mean life or death—hers or mine.
“Usurping Lorenzo,” I began, laying out the blueprint of our attack with precision. “It’s not just about power—it’s about setting things right. You’ve been under his thumb for too long. Don’t you want to make money without paying him? My fees are much more reasonable…not to mention, I can make you far more money than his ventures ever could.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said last time.”
“And I meant it last time,” I replied. “I don’t understand why you had to call this meeting.”
Giovanni snorted, disbelief etched into every line of his sullen face. “Because I expected movement by now. I don’t know what makes you think we can pull this off? You’ve been...distracted lately.”
I knew exactly what he was implying. It wasn’t just the job on my mind; there was her—Jade. But they didn’t need to know that.
“Focus, Giovanni. This is bigger than any personal...distractions.” The word left a bitter taste in my mouth. “We do this right, and we all win.”
“Right,” he scoffed, tossing back his drink. “Because your little love affair isn’t going to screw us over.”
“Keep your mouth shut about things you don’t understand,” I snapped, feeling the room’s temperature rising along with my temper.
“Or what?” Giovanni leaned forward, eyes gleaming with provocation. “You’ll take me out like Bruno?”
Marco shifted uncomfortably, sensing the shift in mood. The table was a battleground now, every word a potential trigger.
“I had nothing to do with that,” I said, my voice even, but inside, Jade’s image danced behind my eyelids, softening my resolve. But by not trying to convince him, I could already tell I’d made a bad tactical move. Giovanni was itching to start something…and I had just given him ammunition. “But this isn’t about the past. Focus on the prize, or get out.”
“Sounds like someone’s getting cold feet—or maybe just soft in the head.” Giovanni’s words were like a viper’s strike, quick and filled with venom.
“Watch it,” Marco growled, a low rumble of warning that had Giovanni sitting up straighter.
“Enough,” I interjected before things could escalate further. “We stick to the plan. Keep your eyes on our enemies, not each other.”
“That’s adorable, Moretti,” Giovanni said. “What are we? Best friends?”
“There’s a reason we’re working together. You want to earn money from these routes, don’t you?”
“Speaking of routes,” Giovanni started, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “When are those clinics and labs Marco promised me going to be up and running? I’m losing money here, Dante.”
“We have several already up and running,” I said. “I just need to make sure the routes are fully established before I can add product to them. You know that. There’s inventory to take care of and we have to make it seem legit. That’s the thing about this that’ll make it work, that it’ll look good under scrutiny. But you know things like this take time.”
“The delay is eating into my profits.”
I clenched my jaw, knowing he had a point. Marco had been preoccupied with other responsibilities, security measures mainly, to ensure our family’s protection. But this was a valid concern. One that I had to address promptly.
But this was Lorenzo Caruso’s fault. There was no way Giovanni didn’t know that.
“Our work has been tied up dealing with other matters,” I managed to keep my voice steady, non-confrontational. “But I assure you, it’s a priority for us too. It’ll be sorted soon.”
Giovanni sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why did you have to clip Bruno?” he asked. “He was family…”
“I didn’t—“
I didn’t get a chance to defend myself. The stillness of the room shattered like glass as chaos erupted around us. Giovanni reached for his gun, and he was speaking before I could process what he was saying. “Deal’s off, Moretti,” he said.
His men made their move.
Bullets whizzed through the air, their metallic pings off the crates creating a deadly symphony. I ducked instinctively, scanning for Marco. My brother was a few feet away from me, his gun in hand, returning fire with trained precision.
“Marco!” I shouted over the chaos, trying to reach him.
But then he staggered backward, his face contorted in pain. Blood blossomed across his shirt, spreading rapidly. It was a striking, grotesque contrast to the white fabric.
“Shit,” I cursed under my breath, my instincts kicking in full throttle. I lunged forward, grappling Marco by the waist and throwing his arm over my shoulder. His weight bore down on me, but adrenaline fueled my muscles, giving me strength I didn’t know I possessed.
I was vaguely aware of the fact that they had stopped shooting and how now started to disperse.
“Come on, brother,” I grunted, half-dragging, half-carrying him toward the back exit. Each step was punctuated by the metallic taste of fear and desperation in my mouth.
We stumbled through the maze of crates, dodging bullets and stepping over bodies that had fallen victim to this sudden onslaught. As we burst out into the cool night air, the distant wail of sirens reached my ears—an ominous reminder that time was slipping away, and our escape needed to be swift.
“Stay with me, Marco,” I urged, even though he was barely conscious, his body growing heavier against mine with each passing second. We had to get out of here. Now.
Blood was everywhere. Marco’s rasping breaths filled the car, each one sounding like it could be his last, as I floored the gas pedal and shot through the streets. The hospital loomed ahead, a glaring monolith of light against the night, our only hope.
“Almost there, hang on,” I said, more to myself than to Marco, who was slipping in and out of consciousness in the backseat. His blood was on my hands—literally—and the weight of it all pressed down on me, suffocating.
I screeched to a halt at the ER entrance, threw the car door open, and hauled Marco’s limp form from the back. He was heavy, his body a dead weight, but panic lent me strength. I didn’t bother with subtlety as I burst through the sliding doors.
“Help! I need help here!” My voice cut through the sterile air, commanding and desperate all at once. Nurses spun around, their faces masks of professional concern that barely hid their shock at the sight of so much blood.
“Gunshot wound!” I barked, as a stretcher materialized from nowhere. Hands reached out, relieving me of Marco’s weight, and in moments he was being wheeled away, his life in the hands of strangers.
“Sir, you’ll need to fill out some paperwork—“ a nurse began, but I silenced her with a look.
“Later. Take care of him,” I growled, the threat implicit in my tone. She nodded, understanding, and hurried after the stretcher.
He was wheeled away as the nurse told me to hang on, she said something about waiting there, that someone would come get me…or something.
I wasn’t sure what she was saying exactly.
All I was sure of was that I felt sick.
Left alone amidst the beeping machines and frantic energy of the emergency room, I tried to catch my breath, to shake off the remnants of adrenaline. But then, a sharp cry sliced through the fog of my thoughts.
I turned to see a pregnant woman collapse to the floor, her partner yelling for help. Doctors and nurses converged on her, their movements efficient yet tinged with urgency. Her cries were raw, primal—a stark reminder of how quickly life could turn on a dime.
For a moment, my own problems seemed insignificant. Here was another life hanging in the balance, another person fighting against the chaos. And despite everything, all I could think about was Jade.
The thought of Jade, so delicate yet so determined, in a place like this sent a chill down my spine. Her work in biotechnology, her passion for making a difference... it all seemed too pure, too fragile for the brutality of this world we lived in.
God forbid anything should ever happen to her. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.
I shook off the thought just as quickly as it had come. Worrying about Jade now wouldn’t do me or Marco any good. It wouldn’t solve our problems or save the woman who was now being wheeled off into an operating room.
“Sir,” a voice broke through my thoughts and I spun around to see a petite nurse with a clipboard in her hands. “I need some information about your brother.”
Rattling off Marco’s particulars required little thought - I’d memorized them ages ago, borne out of necessity and the perilous nature of our lifestyle. The nurse nodded along, scribbling furiously on her clipboard.
As soon as she was done and had scampered away, my phone buzzed in my pocket. One look at the caller ID had me stepping outside into the chilly night air.
My father was calling.
And I had no idea what he did know…all I was certain of was that things were about to get a whole lot fucking worse.