Chapter 11
Eleven
Luca
There are four men on Harper, two restraining her, Halsey and Caden, and two watching to make sure she doesn’t escape, Bruno and Vito.
Do they really need four men to keep her contained? It’s overkill.
Nico and Matteo join the party, dragging the boy back into the dungeon, opening the cell and tossing him inside.
There’s a cot on the floor and a blanket that looks worse for wear. The little boy runs toward the cot against the far wall and curls up, keeping his distance as best he can.
But Harper isn’t in a cell, and knowing he wants her dead has my stomach churning. I don’t question why he hasn’t killed her yet. It’s probably to torture me.
What the fuck is Dante involved in this time?
Matteo stands in front of Harper, his hands bunched into fists at his sides.
“Tell me why you were snooping and I won’t make this unpleasant for you.”
The air rushes out of my lungs.
He’s talking about torture, quietly threatening her with it.
“I swear, I thought I heard a puppy!” Harper cries out, trying to wrestle the men free, but they force her into a chair.
She’s not physically restrained, except for the firm hands on her shoulders by the capo, keeping her from getting up and running.
Her breathing is erratic.
I know the feeling, horror, seeing what men are capable of, and worse, it’s my own father behind this child’s abduction. I never knew him to traffic children, but he’s a monster, always has been. And I don’t know all the dirty details of his business endeavors.
“Just let the child go,” Harper rasps. “I don’t care about me. Do whatever you want to me.”
“Oh, you’ll care,” Caden says with a deep, throaty laugh. “You’ll beg us to kill you. Stupid girl, coming down into the mafia basement and stealing our property. You must have a death wish.”
“Mafia?” Harper gasps. Clearly, she hadn’t figured it out until he spelled it out for her. I’m not sure if I should be relieved that she’s na?ve, or embarrassed that she couldn’t get there on her own.
“Let her go!” I shout. My voice reverberates against the metal bars and dulls over the stone walls.
I shove Bruno and Vito backward, out of the way so that I can get to Harper.
Bruno grabs my arm, yanking me toward him, whipping out his gun and shoving it against my temple. “And your father always thought you would grow up to be a smart man,” Bruno hisses against my ear.
“Silence!” Dante shouts, and his footsteps are heavy when they tread over the cement basement floor as he approaches from down the stairs.
“What do we have here?” Dante asks, examining the girl seated in front of him. He walks around her like a lion stalking their prey. While he’s aware of the crime on camera, he wants to hear it firsthand and understand his enemy.
Halsey speaks first, his grip still firm on Harper’s shoulder as he keeps her positioned in the metal folding chair, facing the prison cell. “Caught the girl snooping.”
“I wasn’t snooping!” Harper shouts and shoves the man off her arm, but she doesn’t rise from the chair. She seems to know better than to run again. Besides, the men towering above her have guns.
“What were you doing?” Dante asks, awaiting an explanation, although I can’t imagine any answer would satisfy him.
“I heard a puppy, and I went to find it so I could let it out to the bathroom. Is that so horrible?” Harper asks. She doesn’t even mention that she stumbled into the mafia den and found a child, then proceeded to attempt an escape with him. No sense in reminding him of what happened.
“Well, what do you suggest we do now that you’ve found your dog?” Dante stares coldly at Harper, waiting to hear her explanation.
“It’s a child!” Harper reiterates, gesturing to the kid behind bars. “Whatever he did, he’s a kid. You can’t just kidnap children for the hell of it.”
“Oh, believe me, I get no enjoyment from this,” Dante says, his voice calm, far too calm.
I step forward, shoving Bruno backward and off me. Seeing as how my father is in the room, he doesn’t rough handle me like I know he wants to. He’s cautious around Dante because, after all, I am my father’s son.
“I don’t believe you,” I say. “You’ve murdered men; I’ve seen it myself firsthand.”
Dante’s brow furrows. “I’ve murdered no one,” he says, glowering at me. “Son, what you’ve convinced yourself you’ve seen, it’s all—not true.”
Of course, he’d balk at the suggestion that I witnessed a crime, a murder, no less. I wouldn’t expect him to admit it, not to me, not to anyone.
“And what about this? How do you explain you kidnapping a child?” Harper asks. The girl doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.
Dante steps closer and leans down, his face mere inches from Harper's. “The way I see it, you kidnapped him from me. I’m merely protecting the little rascal. Someone should look after the child. I wouldn’t want him to end up in harm’s way, would you, dear?
” Dante asks. He stands properly and glances back over his shoulder at the boy.
Behind me, another set of soft footsteps make their way downstairs, and it’s Moreno.
Looks like a family reunion, except we’re missing a few soldiers my father commands.
“Sir, I’ll take care of this,” Moreno says, allowing my father to return to bed if he so chooses.
Moreno is his second in command. Dante trusts Moreno with his life and with the job.
Dante glances at Moreno and then at me. “The girl is a problem, one you both brought into my home, under my roof.”
Is he blaming his second for this?
“I couldn’t have known she was coming, sir. I had the other girls who had intended on attending Nova’s birthday party rescind their invitation—it was without my knowledge that this girl, your son’s girlfriend, would attend,” Moreno says.
He’s clearly covering his own ass and his family.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Throw me and Harper under the proverbial bus.
Just fucking great.
I glance at Bruno’s gun. I could attempt to wrestle it from his grip, but we’re outnumbered and surely outmatched. I could fight one, maybe two guys, but there are six men, all fully trained, mafia style.
“Yes,” Dante says, nodding slowly, stroking his jaw as he turns to face me. “This problem, it seems, is between my son and me.”
Harper’s head is turned, her gaze on me. I can see the cogs turning, her wondering what exactly all of this means and how the hell do we get out of this basement, alive.
“You’re absolutely right, Father.” It pains me to call Dante my father, but right now, I’ll do whatever it takes. If I need to put on a show, perform an act, I’ll give it my all. I just hope Harper has the same acting skills and will play along. Is there another way out of this disaster?
Dante exhales heavily through his nose. “Is that so?” He seems surprised, as shocked as I am, that I’m admitting he’s right.
The man basks in his glory, but I’ll only let him have this win for a brief moment.
“I shouldn’t have brought my girlfriend here uninvited,” I say.
I take a moment, gathering my thoughts before continuing, hoping that what I spin will work to save her, to save both of us.
“She had no idea what this place is, who you are, until one of your men, Caden, spelled it out for her, like an imbecile.”
Dante’s eyes tighten for a moment, and he turns toward Caden and the other men who work for him. “Is this true?”
Halsey is the first to nod. “Yes, sir.” He and Caden are of equal rank. Vito works for Caden, I can’t imagine he’d sell out his boss, and Bruno, well, he’s Bruno. He’d sell out his own sister if given the opportunity. As would Matteo, who also agrees with what just transpired.
Dante grabs Bruno’s gun and lifts the barrel. He pauses only slightly, removing the extra bullets before turning the pistol and handing it to Harper. “You kill him, and you can live.”
“Excuse me?” Harper’s eyes widen.
“Sir,” Caden’s voice wavers, “that isn’t necessary. I swear I’d never betray you, sir. What I said, it was entirely an accident. I mean, I never meant to tell the girl we’re mafia. It just slipped out. You know I would never—” He’s babbling and pleading for his life.
Dante holds a hand up to silence Caden. He doesn’t wish to hear another word from his lips.
Caden takes it as a peace offering. I’m sure he’s hoping, mentally pleading, for his life. After all he’s a capo, one of the men higher in rank that the soldiers. He gives orders, he’s valuable and trusted, but once trust is broken, there is no apology that can mend the broken bonds of blood.
Dante gently guides his arm to Harper, having her stand and face Caden. “Shoot the traitor,” Dante says into her ear, his whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. “Prove your loyalty and alliance to the family, to my son, and you both will live. You have my word.”
The gun in her hand trembles as she slowly raises it, shaking her head no. Her whole body is trembling, her breaths uneven and gasping for air. She’s probably having a panic attack. I sure as hell am on the brink of one as I try to protect her the only way I know how.
I step between Caden and Harper. I can’t have her make that choice. She’s not a cold-blooded killer.
“She’s not shooting anyone,” I say, stopping the insanity that is my father’s game.
There’s a look of relief that crosses her face as she lowers the gun and I take it in my hands. A part of me wants to raise the weapon, point it at my father, and pull the trigger.
But what then?
I don’t wish to lead the mafia, and I’d be the man I despise, just like my father, but so much worse.
I turn to Dante. “Harper is under my protection. You cannot touch her.”
He huffs under his breath and tilts his head. “What makes you think you can stop me, son?”
Ashton glances at my father, waiting for the command to murder both of us. Like his finger is itching on the trigger, and he’s eager to have two kills to his name.
“A marriage alliance,” I breathe, exhaling heavily, praying that this works. “If she’s wed to me, then she’s part of the family. Protected.”
“But you don’t wish to be mafia, Luca,” Dante says, reminding me of my betrayal to the family. His gaze moves to Ashton, and he nods, as though he’s giving him permission to kill both of us. “Your idea is lacking creativity.” He’s fucking mocking me.
I inhale sharply as Ashton raises the gun on Harper and cocks off the safety.
“Wait!” I step between Harper and the gun. “I’ll come work for you.”
Dante holds a hand up to Ashton, indicating for him to wait a moment before pulling the trigger.
“You’ll work for me, and you’ll marry her,” Dante says, indicating that both options must happen.
Harper’s brow furrows, and she shakes her head. “You can’t dictate my life. Either of you!”
“Know when to shut up!” Dante scolds her.
“Your son is a phenomenal hockey player. You’re just going to let him ruin his chances at a promising professional career after college?” Harper doesn’t seem to know how much my father hates hockey. He hates all sports unless there’s betting involved, and he’s making money as a bookie.
Dante laughs darkly and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Your girlfriend is a real spitfire,” he mutters.
Dante’s eyes narrow as he steals a glance from Harper to Moreno. It’s like he’s looking for feedback, which is quite unlike my father.
Moreno leans in, whispers something to Dante, before standing firm.
“You are both to remain under this roof until the wedding. I can’t risk her getting anyone else killed.”
I exhale a nervous breath as Ashton begins to lower his weapon.
Dante continues; he’s not done speaking.
“And as for the family business, you will begin training every weekend that you do not have hockey practice or a game. You are expected to join us upon graduation, unless you are drafted by the NHL. At which point, when your hockey career ceases, you will then be expected to come and work for the family.”
“Those terms are acceptable,” I say in agreement, without so much as looking at Harper.
I’m doing this to save her life; she has to realize that’s all that I want. To protect her.
My father turns and faces Harper. “If you give me any more problems, don’t think I won’t have my men torture and kill you. You are never to step foot in this room again. Is that understood?”
Harper glances at me before nodding. “Yes, sir.”
“Good, she’s learning,” Dante says with a smirk. “You both can return upstairs to bed, but do not disappoint me.”
I grab Harper’s hand and lead her up the basement stairs and around the house, back upstairs. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers, and I nod and put a finger over my lips, warning her to be quiet.
I grab both of our bags and bring them to the guest quarters bathroom, flip on the light and fan, and gesture for her to join me inside. I close the door behind us.
She opens her mouth to speak, and I hold up a finger and start the shower, making sure any sound is entirely drowned out by all the noise around us.
Only now do I feel it’s safe to talk.