24. Cassie
CASSIE
T he world stops spinning the moment Dante walks away. I stand there, frozen, my body hollowed out, my soul scraped raw.
My baby.
My Aria.
Gone.
I’m bleeding dry from the inside out, and no one can see. I failed at the one job that mattered: keeping my daughter safe.
“Cassie.” Tina’s hands find my shoulders. “Let’s get you inside.”
My feet might as well be cemented to the ground.
The guard is being loaded into an ambulance. There’s activity all around me—men in dark clothes, radios crackling, urgent voices—but it’s all underwater. Distant. Happening to someone else.
“She was just playing,” I whisper. “She was just?—”
My knees buckle, and Tina catches me before I hit the ground. Her arms wrap around me tightly, keeping me upright.
“I’ve got you,” she says, fierce and sure. “Come on. One step at a time.”
Somehow, we make it inside.
Tina forces me to sit and wraps a blanket around my shoulders, even though I’m not cold. Beyond that, there’s nothing more to say.
I’ve never hated silence this much.
It’s everywhere. Thick. Smothering. The walls of this house press in closer with every minute that passes without my daughter in my arms.
The security guys hover outside like statues. Dante’s gone. Hunting. His promise still rings in my ears— I’ll bring her back .
God, I hope to hell he can.
I bring my knees to my chest, arms wrapped so tight around myself I might snap in half. My head keeps replaying every second—her little voice, her curls bouncing as she must have run outside, the stupid ball by the swing set.
I should’ve been awake. I shouldn’t have stayed up all night talking. I should have?—
“I need—” I hold back a sob. “I need to do something. Call the police. Put out an Amber Alert. I need to?—”
“Dante’s handling it,” Tina says, her hand reaching for mine. “He’s already got men at every exit point from the state. He’s got connections the police don’t. Trust me, Cass. Nobody finds people like my brother.”
What if whoever took her already hurt her? What if she’s scared, crying for me, wondering why Mommy isn’t coming?
“Breathe, Cass,” Tina whispers. “Look at me. Focus on me.”
I force my eyes to hers—the same startling blue-gray as Dante’s, as Aria’s—and something inside me cracks wide open.
“It’s my fault,” I choke out. “All of it. Everything.”
“It’s not,” she says firmly. “It’s Gino’s fault. Only his.”
I shake my head, tears burning trails down my cheeks. “No, you don’t understand. It’s not just about today. It’s everything. It’s years of lies, and I?—”
My throat closes. I never told Tina. God, she’s going to be so mad.
“You what?” She looks positively worried.
I stare at the floor. The knot in my chest tightens. I’ve dreaded this moment for three years.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” I whisper. “I never wanted to lie to you, Tina.”
“Uh-huh,” she deadpans, arching a brow.
I squeeze my knees tighter, pulse pounding. “It… it started when I was eighteen. That stupid summer when you dragged me to your parents’ lake house. You remember?”
Tina snorts. “Yeah, where Dante spent the whole trip glowering at the world like an emotionally unavailable statue? I thought you had a thing for him. Did you?”
My face burns. “Yeah. We kissed that night.”
Tina groans, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“We just kissed,” I blurt, words tumbling out, messy, desperate. “It was one stupid kiss, and I thought it meant nothing. I was young. I tried to forget about him.”
“Okay…?”
“But then… three years ago.” My chest tightens. Shame slams into me like a wave. “Remember the week I came back to prepare things for the big move once the divorce was finalized? We were at that bar getting drunk, and Dante came into town? Well, he walked me to the car.”
“I remember.”
“And I… we… slept together,” I whisper, the words tasting like acid. “It was just supposed to be that. One night.”
“You slept with my brother?” She makes a barf sound, and I brace myself to prepare for the anger. But what she says next floors me. “You could do so much better.”
Somewhere in my heart, a spark lights up. She’s not mad. Thank the gods she’s not mad.
“That’s not all,” I muster up the courage for the truth at last.
“She’s not his. She’s not Gino’s.”
Tina goes still beside me. So still I can feel the shift in the air between us.
“What?” Tina’s jaw drops open.
I keep going, voice cracking under the weight of it.
“I panicked, Tina. You were my best friend. His sister. I thought you’d hate me, and Dante was gone, so what was the point?
And with Gino still hovering, even after the divorce…
” I close my eyes, the memory like a blade.
“I told everyone the baby was his. It was easier than the truth.”
The room spins. My stomach’s in my throat. My heart’s somewhere under my heel, flattened beyond recognition.
Tina’s quiet. Too quiet.
I risk a glance up. Her arms are still crossed, but her eyes… they’re softer than they should be.
“You really thought I’d hate you?”
I nod, shame creeping up my throat.
Tina sighs, shaking her head. “You’re a dumbass.”
That shocks a laugh out of me—a weak, broken sound.
“You’re also my dumbass,” she adds. “And look, I wanna be pissed. But I can’t.” She leans forward, expression fierce. “You think I didn’t notice how Dante looked at you back then? Or how wrecked he was after that one night?”
Tears sting my eyes.
“I should’ve told you.” My voice splinters. “I ruined everything. I hate myself for lying. For putting her in this position?—”
Tina grabs my hand, squeezing so tight my fingers ache.
“Stop.” Her tone drops, low, lethal, and protective. “Dante will bring her back.”
I shake my head, shoulders trembling. “You don’t know that?—”
“Yes,” she bites out. “I do. He’s a psycho when it comes to people he loves. He’ll tear the city apart brick by brick if that’s what it takes.”
A sob lodges in my throat.
“Family protects family,” Tina says, her grip tightening. “And you’re family, whether you like it or not.”
The words barely have time to settle before the door flies open. One of the guards rushes in, pale, panting.
“We just got a call.” His voice shakes. “Your daughter’s alive. But?—”
I bolt to my feet. “But what?”
His jaw clenches. His next words slice the air clean open.
“He wants to trade.”