Chapter 32 Dante
DANTE
It’s been two nights since I last slept.
The world outside the car is nothing but streaks of passing light, the blacktop shining with rain.
Julianne sits beside me, her face pale and closed off, eyes fixed on the dark window.
She hasn’t said a word about Adriana since we left the city.
She doesn’t look worried. If anything, she seems almost relieved.
I try to focus on the road, but my thoughts keep circling back to Adriana.
Every time I look at Julianne, all I see is the sister I can’t reach.
The seat beside me should belong to her, not Julianne.
I wonder where Adriana is sleeping tonight, if she’s safe, if she’s eating, if she’s angry with me—or if she’s afraid.
Julianne leans her head against the glass, the motion steady, her breathing even. There’s no tension in her shoulders, no signs of panic or grief.
We finally pull through the gates just before sunrise, the estate looming ahead with its lights glowing in the wet gray dawn. Julianne smooths her hair as we park, her movements precise and practiced, not a hint of nerves in her face.
My father is already waiting for us at the foyer, flanked by two guards. He smiles when he sees Julianne step out beside me, his expression full of satisfaction—like a chess player sliding his queen into place.
“Well done, son,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “The family looks better with you two side by side.”
Julianne offers a polite smile, folding her hands in front of her. She doesn’t flinch when my father kisses her cheek.
My mother hovers just behind him, her lips pressed thin, her gaze darting from me to Julianne and then away again. She says nothing, but I see something unsettled in her eyes—worry, maybe, or pity.
Liam stands by the doorway, mug in hand, posture stiff. He greets Julianne with a nod, avoids my gaze, and disappears inside without another word.
I can barely breathe as I step into the entry hall, the ache in my chest almost blinding. My father turns, pleased with himself, already savoring whatever power play he thinks he’s won. I cross the marble floor and kneel at his feet, ignoring the shock on everyone’s faces.
I open my palm and hold out the pregnancy test, the two faint lines visible under the foyer lights.
He frowns, not understanding at first. “What is this?” he asks.
“You know where she is?” My voice is steady, but my hands are shaking.
He looks at me, puzzled. “Who? What are you talking about?”
“My wife,” I snap, my control breaking. “Did you take her?”
His face shifts from confusion to irritation. “You’re being ridiculous, Dante. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get up. Enough of this.”
But I don’t move. I can feel the rage burning in my veins, erasing every last shred of patience. I get to my feet, meet his eyes one last time, and then turn and walk out the door without another word.
I head straight to the garage, grab a can of gasoline, and stride back up the drive, unscrewing the cap. The scent of gasoline fills the air as I splash it across the stone steps and around the pillars. My father wheels himself out.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yells, followed by my mother, Liam, and Julianne, all rushing out in disbelief.
I keep pouring, my hands steady. “You want to see what happens when you push me too far? You want to see what I’ll do for her?”
The family gathers on the steps, horror and fear etched on their faces. For the first time, I see real uncertainty in my father’s eyes as the smell of fuel spreads through the air, and everyone understands just how far I’m willing to go to get her back.
I turn to face them, my hand steady, my rage burning brighter than the morning sun.
“Tell me where she is,” I say, voice cold as ice. “Or I’ll burn this whole place to the ground.”
“You’re acting insane!” my father shouts from his wheelchair, his voice cutting through the chaos. He wheels forward, furious. “What’s gotten into you, Dante?”
I grip the lighter tight in my fist, gasoline fumes burning in my nose. My hands are trembling but my words are steady. “I can’t lose her. You get it? I can’t lose Adriana. I can’t lose my child.”
Julianne steps forward, voice cracking. “Dante, please—”
“No more lies!” I bark, the words echoing across the courtyard. I lock eyes with her. “I saw you with my father. In that restaurant. What are you really up to?”
Liam grabs my arm, trying to pull me back, while my mother pleads for calm, tears in her eyes. “Dante, please, don’t do this,” she says. “You’re not yourself.”
Julianne sees the pregnancy test in my hand, her face crumples, and everything unravels. She falls to her knees on the gravel, sobbing, her words pouring out in broken, desperate waves.
“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—I never meant for any of this to happen.
” She looks up at me, tears streaming down her face.
“I regretted running away with Luka every single day. I was lost. I was scared. Then I saw Adriana, how happy she was here, with you, and it broke me. I wanted my life back. I wanted to come home. Your father promised he could fix everything if I just helped. He said it was the only way.”
She buries her face in her hands, the pain and regret shaking her whole body. “I didn’t know what else to do. I never meant to hurt her—I never meant to hurt you.”
I look down at Julianne, kneeling and sobbing in the gravel, and for the first time I really see her—not as a traitor or a pawn, but someone as broken as I am. Someone desperate for a way out. Someone who wants to make things right, even if she doesn’t know how.
“There’s still time to fix this,” I say, my voice softer. “Help me find her, Julianne. Please. I can’t do it alone.”
She wipes her eyes, nodding. “She’s probably with Bella. If she’s scared, that’s where she’ll go.”
“I already checked Bella’s apartment,” I tell her, my mind racing.
“She has another place. Her mother’s, in Brooklyn.” Julianne’s voice shakes, but there’s hope there too. “I’ll take you.”
I look at the house one last time, at all the pain and history trapped inside those walls. Then, without a word, I let the lighter fall to the gravel. I’m done threatening. I’m done fighting for anything but her.
I turn and face my father. “This is it. I’m finished being your son. I’m done with your wars. You have nothing left to hold over me.”
His jaw works, but he doesn’t answer. I see the truth settle behind his eyes—he’s lost me for good.
As I walk away, Liam steps up beside me, shoulders squared. “You’re not going alone,” he says. “I’m coming with you.”
We pile into the car, Liam at the wheel, and race across the city. Bella’s mother’s building is old and sturdy, the stairwell still smelling of garlic and clean laundry. Bella answers on the third knock, eyes blazing when she sees us.
She moves to slam the door, but I catch it with my palm. “Bella, please—”
She glares at me, then at Julianne. “I know what you did,” she snaps. “You hurt your own sister. How could you?”
Julianne’s shoulders slump. “My actions have no excuses. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please—let me put this right. Tell us where she is. Please.”
Bella stares hard, then sighs, tension draining from her face. She opens the door fully. “Adriana hasn’t been here since this morning. She left right after I went to work.”
I step inside, every muscle tensed. “Did she say where she was going?”
Bella nods, finally relenting. “She left a note. I thought she’d just gone to clear her head, but…here.”
She hands me a scrap of paper with an address scrawled in Adriana’s handwriting. My chest tightens. I look at Julianne, then back at the note. Something is wrong; I can feel it.
I pace in Bella’s mother’s living room while rain taps against the windowpanes. It’s already dusk—the moment when streetlights flicker on and Brooklyn turns silver under the storm. I dial Eddie.
“Pull every city feed around Fulton and Classon,” I tell him. “Eight a.m. to now—traffic cams, storefronts, anything with a lens.”
He types fast enough that I can hear the keys rattling. “Give me a second… All right, I’ve got her. Adriana walked in at 10:42 a.m. A man went with her.”
Blood roars in my ears. “Who’s the guy?”
“I’ll need to trace him,” Eddie says.
“When did she leave?”
“Adriana left the clinic at around twelve this morning. She climbed into the passenger seat of a dark sedan, but I don’t think it was the same person she came in with. He left after her.”
My pulse spikes. “Did you get a plate number?”
“Can’t see it,” he says. “A delivery van rolls between the camera and the car right as she steps in. I lose the sedan for three full seconds—long enough to block every angle.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “Driver?”
“Nothing but a sleeve and a watch band. No face.”
“Work outward. Traffic cameras, storefront security, anything within four blocks of that clinic. Get me a plate or a clear shot of the driver.”
“That’s a lot of footage, Dante.”
“You have ten minutes.”
“Jesus, Dante—”
“Thirty, then,” I snap. “I need to find my wife. Call the moment you have a name.”
“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
I breathe through the frustration. “Okay, we still have the other guy. If he was with Adriana, he would know why she was there. You have his face. That can’t be hard. Find that guy.”
He hears the edge in my voice and falls silent. “Understood,” he says, and the line clicks dead.
I turn back into the living room. Bella is still bristling, arms folded. “You have no right to do this now, not after everything you’ve put her through.”
Oleg starts to speak, but I raise a hand, and he falls silent. I step closer to Bella, rainwater dripping from my coat. “I know it’s my fault,” I say, throat raw. “I know about the baby.”
Her expression shifts, part surprise, part hurt. “So you’re here only because she’s pregnant?”
“No.” I draw a breath, every word pulled from the center of my chest. “I’m here because I love her.
I’ve loved her since the moment she walked into my life, stubborn and brave and too good for anyone in my world.
I was afraid to admit it, afraid of what that love would cost. But every hour without her feels like I’m losing the best part of myself. ”
Bella stares at me, tears welling. Oleg lowers his eyes, giving us a moment of privacy.
“I will find her,” I say, voice breaking. “I will spend the rest of my life making her feel safe and loved, if she’ll have me. Not because of the baby, but because she is my heart.”
The room is silent but for my ragged breathing. Bella nods once, wiping a tear. “Then go. Bring her back.”
“I will,” I promise as I start toward the door.
“We should wait until Eddie gets back to us. No sense charging blind,” Liam says, straightening.
I shake my head. “Every second she’s missing, the trail goes cold. We’re leaving.”
Oleg navigates south through slick streets, wipers slapping. Liam rides up front, scanning the route. My phone buzzes again.
Eddie: Match found. Alex Carter. Former Chicago Herald reporter. Address attached.
Liam glances at the message and then at me. “Why would she be with a reporter?”
“That’s her colleague,” I say.
He raises a brow. “Let me get this straight, Adriana Petrova, daughter of a mob boss, is a fucking reporter?”
“Yes. Anything else you have to say?”
“You always pick the easy ones, brother.”
“Focus on the road,” I tell him, but a reluctant smile tugs at my mouth.
Oleg swings the sedan toward Red Hook, warehouses looming on the waterfront. We park outside a converted factory where a single loft light glows.
The third-floor hallway smells of coffee and cold brick. I knock once. Alex Carter cracks the door, sees me, and blanches. He tries to slam it but I block it with a shoulder and enter, Liam and Oleg behind me.
Papers, camera lenses, and half-finished notes litter every surface. Photos of Portello and Bratva faces lie scattered on a light table. Near the center is a grainy telephoto shot of Adriana.
Alex backs against the wall. “Volkov…” His voice shakes.
I step closer. “Good. You know me. Saves time.”
He takes a breath that sounds more like a gulp. “Adriana and I were chasing a story. The missing girls, Portello, all of it.”
“I know about that,” I say impatiently.
He looks awestruck. “You do? Did she—”
“Get to the point,” I say, slowly taking my gun out. His eyes widen, his lips quivering. “We were together this morning for an interview. She left the clinic because she didn’t like where my methods were headed.”
“You need to be more specific.”
Alex’s gaze skitters across the room before landing on the cluttered table. “I…I thought you were behind the disappearances. When that survivor pointed at your photo, I—” He shakes his head, fear bleeding through the bravado I never bought.
“What survivor?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he stammers, then reaches for a stack of pictures spread across the tabletop.
He plucks out the one of me, the zoom-lens shot Eddie flagged.
“She pointed at this, and I…I assumed it was you.” His hand trembles as he peels my photo away.
“But it wasn’t. She was pointing at the image behind it. ”
The picture underneath shows a familiar face, half turned from the camera, blond hair slicked back, an easy smile I’ve seen a hundred times across a crowded club. Maksim.
Ice slides through my veins. For a moment the room narrows to a tunnel—dim loft lights, rain hissing on the roof, the photo burning into my vision. Beside me, Alex keeps talking, voice distant.
“I wanted to warn Adriana—it was already too late, she’d left, and she hasn’t answered any texts since.”
His words dissolve in the static roaring in my ears.
My mind races, every piece snapping into place with cold, brutal clarity. Adriana isn’t answering her texts. She hasn’t come back to Bella’s. She’s not hiding out at any of the safe addresses I know.
There’s only one place left she’d run to if she felt cornered, betrayed by everyone else. The one person who always smiled, always promised safety, always knew how to put her at ease.
The monster was beside us all along, hiding in plain sight.
The room tilts as the truth lands. I delivered her straight to him.
“Oleg, Liam—we need to move. Now.” My voice is rough, breaking. “She’s with Maksim.”