Chapter 10 #3
“You don't have a plan,” he said. “You're running on instinct. That works for a few hours. Maybe a day.” He uncrossed his arms and set both hands flat on the counter behind him, and she noticed for the first time how deliberate all his movements were. “After that, you need something better.”
“I'm not going back,” she said. “Not to the feds. I’m not going to be moved around like I'm evidence.”
“I didn't say you should,” Julian replied. “I'm saying you need to decide what you're willing to do instead.”
There was arguing coming from the back of the house. Then a sharp crack, like a fist hitting the wall.
The door at the end of the hall slammed hard enough to rattle something in the kitchen cabinets.
Dante appeared in the doorway a second later carrying a small duffle.
The air seemed to change around him. His face was flushed, his eyes lit with something restless and dark, like whatever had been said back there hadn't resolved anything.
“We're going,” he said.
Julian straightened. “Dante—”
Jessica set the mug down carefully, because her hands had started to shake again and she didn't want either of them to see it. “Where are we going?”
Dante looked at her like the question irritated him, not because it was wrong, but because he didn't have an answer he liked. “Away from here.”
“That's not a destination.”
“It's enough for now.”
“It wasn't enough last time,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
The words hung there between them. Dante went still.
Julian's gaze shifted between them, quiet, watchful.
“You don't get to decide everything again,” she said. “I'm not getting shoved into another car and being told it'll all work out.”
Dante took a step closer. “And you don't get to sit still and wait for them to try again.”
“I wasn't sitting still,” she snapped. “I was surviving.”
“Barely.”
Jessica felt the word hit somewhere beneath anger, in the place where she'd been holding together since the crawl space. Since the dark and the weight of the gun in her hands and the absolute certainty that she was alone.
Julian pushed off the counter. “You two can have this argument somewhere else. Preferably not in my kitchen.”
Jessica slid off the stool. “Thank you,” she said to Julian.
“Try not to make the same mistakes twice,” he said. His eyes moved to Dante as he said it, and Jessica couldn't tell which of them he meant it for.
They moved toward the front door. Outside, the air was already growing hot. The 'Cuda waited in the driveway.
Dante opened the door for her and she got in without arguing.
“Dante.”
Santiago's voice carried from the porch.
Dante closed his eyes for half a second. Then he stepped back from the car. “I'll be a minute,” he muttered, not looking at Jessica, already turning. He walked back up the path, the gravel shifting under his boots.
Santiago hadn't moved. Julian stood just inside the doorway, one hand resting on the frame.
For a moment, neither brother spoke.
“Please don’t do this,” Santiago said finally. “Please don’t leave with her.”
Dante's gaze drifted past him, into the house.
“I built something here,” Santiago went on. “I made it out. You made sure I could.” His voice caught slightly. “Don't throw yourself back into it like none of that mattered.”
Dante's jaw flexed. “Of course it fucking mattered. That's why I'm standing here talking to you right now instead of already driving halfway down the road.”
“Then stay,” Santiago said.
The word hung between them, simple and impossible.
Dante looked at him then, taking in his brother's face. Santiago was still a young man, but there was a weariness around his eyes that made him look years older, and Dante knew he'd put it there, one way or another, long before tonight.
“I can't,” he said.
“Because of her?”
“Yeah.”
Santiago let out a short breath. “Thirteen years. And it's still her.”
“It was always her.”
There wasn't any anger in Dante's voice when he said it. Just fact.
“You still think you can save her.”
“No. But I think I can keep her alive.”
Santiago studied him for a long moment, like he was searching for some version of his brother who would choose differently. He didn't find one.
“And you're not going to come back,” Santiago said. It wasn't a question.
Dante felt something tighten in his chest, but he kept his voice steady. “I don't know what's gonna happen.”
Santiago just nodded once.
Dante didn't realize he'd stepped forward until he was already there. For a second, they just stood facing each other. Then Santiago reached for him.
The embrace was tight and solid. Dante felt it all at once: the years, the distance, the things he'd done to make sure this man got to have a life that didn't look anything like his.
They pulled apart slowly, neither in a hurry to be the first to let go.
Santiago’s hand rested on Dante’s shoulder. “Try to survive.”
“You too.”
Julian's hand fell away and Dante turned and walked back down the path. He didn't look back again.
Jessica sat inside the car, her expression unreadable.
Dante slid into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut. For a moment, he just sat there, hands on the wheel.
Then he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway and soon the house shrank in the rearview mirror.