Dante
“They want a war,” Luca spat.
“Family doesn’t mean that she’s innocent,” Luca replied. “Not in our world.”
“Her father,” Luca said. “He’s been dead for two years now. His financial records show unexplained transfers tied to shell companies that we can’t trace.”
“I think someone has,” Luca said. “And she’s the only loose thread we have.” Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken understanding.
“What do you want done?” Dante asked, already knowing the answer.
Luca’s eyes locked onto his. “Take her into custody.”
Dante didn’t flinch. “Interrogate her?”
“Protect her,” Luca corrected. “Until we know who’s pulling the strings.” Protection in their world came with chains. She’d be held by the Camorra family, and that would be as bad as holding her for interrogation.
“And if she runs?” Dante asked.
“She won’t,” Luca said calmly. “You won’t give her the chance.” Dante exhaled slowly. Orders were orders. Loyalty wasn’t a choice—it was survival.
“When do you want this done?” he asked, not questioning his orders.
“Tonight,” Luca said. “The sooner we find her, the sooner we can get some answers about who did this. I won’t allow my family to take the blame for their murders,” he said, nodding to the bodies on the ground.
Dante knew that Luca was right—they needed to get to the bottom of who was murdering men and leaving them with the family’s name carved into their flesh.
He hated that he was going to have to spend his Saturday night tracking down a mafia princess who’d probably be happy to see him dead, but he had his orders, and Dante never disobeyed an order given by Luca Camorra.
It was, after all, how he had become his second in command.
Luca had given Dante until midnight to bring Elena in. After that, he said that he’d send out more of his men, and Dante knew that wouldn’t end well for any of them. If he was correct, Elena had information that would be useful to the Camorra family, and Dante planned on finding out what that was.
Elena Romano’s apartment was too quiet. Dante sensed it the moment he stepped inside—his weapon drawn and his instincts razor-sharp.
The place was immaculate. It looked as though it had been professionally staged.
There were no personal photos and no clutter.
It was like the person who lived there had learned not to leave pieces of herself behind.
A sound came from the bedroom, and Dante moved without hesitation, crossing the space in three silent strides and pushing the door open.
She stood by the window, phone in her hand, shoulders stiff.
She turned and froze, her dark eyes widened—not in fear, but recognition as calculation flared there, sharp and fast.
“You’re with the Camorra family,” she said quietly.
Dante lowered the gun just enough to speak. “Get your coat.”
Her chin lifted. “Am I being taken prisoner?” He studied her, noting the steady rise of her chest and the absence of panic.
“No,” he said. “You’re under my protection.” She laughed, and it sounded short and bitter. “That’s not very reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be,” he said. “Now, get your coat.”
She slipped her phone into her pocket. “If I refuse?”
Dante stepped closer, close enough for her to feel the threat rolling off him. “You won’t like what happens if you refuse.” Something flickered in her eyes—not fear, but understanding.
“You think I did something,” she said.
Dante met her gaze, unyielding. “I think you know more than you’re willing to say.”
Her voice dropped. “And if I don’t know anything?”
“Then you’ll stay alive long enough for us to find out the truth,” he threatened. Silence fell between them—tight, electric, and dangerous.
Elena reached for her coat. “Fine,” she said. “But understand this.” Dante paused. “I’m not your enemy,” she continued. “And whoever set me up is going to come for me next.”
Dante opened the door, ushering her into the night. “Then it’s a good thing,” he said coldly, “they’ll have to go through me first.”
And for reasons he refused to examine too closely, Dante Vitale knew the truth the moment he crossed the threshold of her apartment. Elena Romano wasn’t his problem--she was his weakness. And in his world, that made her deadly.