24. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Alina
Alina wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Okay, she was. But in her defense, the door to Dante’s office was slightly open, and the words “hit squad” and “Vescari lieutenant” were not exactly phrases a normal person could ignore.
She hovered in the hallway, coffee mug in hand, listening.
Luca: We hit the shipment tonight. Then we take out their lieutenant. Clean. Quiet.
Dante: No mistakes. No hesitation.
Alina rolled her eyes. Men and their murder plans. She leaned closer.
Rafe: We’ll need a distraction. Something big.
Dante: We don’t have the manpower for big.
Alina whispered to herself, “You don’t need big. You need smart.”
Don’t do it, her brain warned.
Do it, her heart countered.
Her mouth was already opening the door.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The low conversation cut off instantly. Four men turned to stare, their bodies going completely rigid: Dante, Luca, Rafe, Marco.
A war council. All of them looked at her like she’d just stumbled into a sacred ritual wearing cheap cotton pajamas. Which, to be fair, she had.
She lifted her mug. “Hi. Don’t mind me. Just here to ruin the vibe.”
Luca pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, fantastic.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. "Alina, you shouldn’t be in here."
“Then close your door,” she said, stepping further inside. “If you leave it cracked, that’s basically an invitation.”
Rafe snorted. Marco smirked. Luca looked like he needed a stiff drink. Dante looked like he needed an immense amount of patience.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I have thoughts,” she said.
Luca muttered, “God help us.”
She walked right up to the table, ignoring the way all four men tensed like she was a grenade with legs. She pointed at the map. “You don’t need a big distraction. You need a precise one.”
Dante crossed his arms. "Alina—"
“No, listen,” she said. “You’re thinking like mafia men. You need to think like someone who isn’t trying to solve everything with bullets.”
Rafe raised a brow. “And how do you suggest we solve it?”
“Noise,” she said. “Not gunfire. Not explosions. Chaos. Something that makes them look the wrong way without making them think they’re under attack.”
Marco leaned in. “Like what?”
“Like a fake delivery truck breaking down on their access road,” she said. “Or a staged argument. Or a police scanner broadcast. Something that makes them curious, not defensive.”
The room went dead quiet. Luca blinked. “That… actually isn’t terrible.”
Alina put a hand to her chest. “Wow. High praise.”
Dante stared at her—not annoyed, not angry, just intensely studying her. “Alina,” he said slowly, “you don’t understand how dangerous this is.”
She shrugged. “I also didn’t understand how dangerous vents were, and yet here we are.”
Rafe laughed aloud. Dante did not.
Dante stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t be involved in this.”
She met his eyes. “I already am.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“But I am.”
His jaw flexed. “Alina—”
She cut him off. “You brought me here. You put me in your mansion. You sleep in my bed to keep me calm. You can’t pretend I’m not part of this.”
The room went utterly silent. Luca looked away. Marco raised his brows. Rafe’s jaw shifted, like he’d started to say something and thought better of it.
Dante’s expression shifted—something dark, protective, and nameless flashing in his eyes. “You’re not part of the war,” he said quietly. “You’re part of my responsibility.”
She stepped closer. “I’m not a responsibility. I’m a person, and I’m trying to help.”
He exhaled sharply, like she’d hit him somewhere entirely unarmored.
Luca cleared his throat. “Her idea isn’t bad.”
Marco nodded. “It’s actually smart.”
Rafe shrugged. “Better than half the plans we’ve used.”
Dante glared at all of them.
Alina smirked. “See? Mixed reviews, but trending positive.”
Dante dragged a hand down his face. “You’re going to drive me insane.”
She sipped her coffee. “Get in line.”
He turned back to the map. “We’ll use her idea,” he said.
Luca blinked. “We will?”
“Yes.”
Rafe grinned. “Look at that. She’s already improving our odds.”
Dante ignored them. He looked at Alina, really looked. “You’re not coming to the operation,” he said.
“Obviously,” she said. “I’m not stupid.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping low. “Stay in the mansion. Stay safe. Stay where I can find you.”
Her breath caught. She nodded. He nodded back.
The planning resumed, his men’s voices filling the space again, but the energy had shifted. He watched her lean over the map, her expression serious as she listened to Marco. She wasn’t an outsider anymore. She was a new variable in his war. She was his. And that was the most dangerous part of all.