Chapter 20
Dante
Twenty minutes into the drive back to the city, I'm second-guessing my decision to leave Sofia at the safehouse. She's been too quiet, too compliant, and that basement confrontation is still playing on repeat in my head—the way she looked at me, the way she almost...
Fuck. I need to focus.
I spoke to Gianna before I left, made sure she understood that Sofia was her responsibility while I'm gone. "Watch her," I told her. "Don't let her out of your sight."
"She's not going anywhere, Dante," Gianna had assured me. "Elena and I will keep an eye on her."
Still, leaving Sofia behind makes my chest tight with unease. The safehouse has a full security detail—eight capos rotating shifts around the property—and I've got the camera feeds routed to my phone so I can check in remotely. This meeting better be quick.
The fact that whatever Vito needs to discuss can't be said over the phone, given our current situation with potential wiretaps and surveillance, has me on edge.
Emergency meetings usually mean bad news, and with the Costellos breathing down our necks, I can only imagine what fresh hell is waiting for me.
Half an hour into the drive, the steely gray sky darkens as the storm looms on the horizon, lightning cracking across the sky.
The windshield wipers struggle to keep up with the torrential rain, and I have to slow down as visibility drops to almost nothing.
Other than the occasional car pulled off to the shoulder with hazards flashing, the roads are mercifully clear.
I hit a particularly nasty pothole, and the car jolts hard enough to rattle my teeth. For a second, I could swear I hear something from the backseat—a small sound, like someone shifting or breathing—but when I glance in the rearview mirror, there's nothing there.
Just my imagination. The stress of this whole situation is making me paranoid.
I make it back to New York City gridlock in record time, the familiar chaos of Manhattan traffic somehow reassuring after the quiet isolation of the safehouse. By the time I park and make my way up to the RRE conference room, my shirt is soaked from the brief sprint through the downpour.
Marco and Rafa are already there, deep in heated conversation when I enter. They both look up as I take my usual position behind Vito's chair.
"—counter attacks to the most recent bombing in the financial district," Marco is saying. "They're targeting our expansion specifically."
"Of course they are," Rafa snaps. "They want to send a message that we can't protect our own territory, let alone expand into theirs."
If I was called back here and away from the person I'm supposed to be protecting to discuss attack strategies, I'm going to be pissed.
They could hold one of those meetings without me present.
I'm here to enforce internal orders for Don Vito, not to hold hands while they brainstorm what needs to be enforced.
Vito enters the room, his expression grim. The tension radiating off him is palpable.
"Dante, tell me my wife stayed at the compound," he says without preamble.
"She did," I confirm. "Enzo didn't tell her about the meeting until after I left, as you instructed."
"Good," he nods, taking his seat. "Because we have a problem."
Yeah. No kidding.
"Kieran changed his mind. Rather than the end of the quarter, we have until the end of the week."
I step back as if the words physically hit me. End of the week. That's four days. Four fucking days.
"No." The word comes out cold, sharp, before I can stop myself.
Shit.
If Vito wasn't suspicious of something between Sofia and me before, he certainly will be now.
The Don isn't to be interrupted when new demands are explained to the inner circle; everyone is meant to remain calm, emotionless, reactionless.
Not only have I reacted, but my reaction calls my devotion to the family into question.
Vito's eyes narrow as he turns to look at me. "Excuse me?"
I force my expression back to neutral, trying to salvage the situation. "I meant no disrespect, boss. I was just... surprised by the accelerated timeline."
"Surprised." Vito repeats the word like he's tasting something bitter. "And why would you be surprised, Dante? This affects the family's strategy, not your personal concerns."
Marco clears his throat. "There's more. Kieran isn't just moving up the timeline—he's also sent confirmation that he knows exactly where we're keeping Sofia. He included photos."
My blood turns to ice. "What kind of photos?"
"Surveillance shots. The safehouse. Sofia in the garden yesterday. You escorting her inside." Marco slides a manila envelope across the table. "They've been watching us."
I grab the envelope, my hands steady despite the rage building in my chest. The photos are clear, professional quality. Sofia walking around the property. Me standing guard. Even one of her looking out an upstairs window.
"How long have they been watching?" I ask through gritted teeth.
"Unknown. Could be since we arrived, could be longer." Vito's voice is carefully controlled, but I can see the fury in his eyes. "The point is, they know exactly where she is, and they're making it clear that our time for negotiations is over."
"So what's the plan?" Rafa asks. "We move her again?"
"To where?" Marco spreads his hands. "If they found one safehouse, they can find another. Besides, we're running out of places to put her."
"We fight," I say, surprised by the vehemence in my own voice. "We increase security, we prepare for an attack, and we defend our position."
"Against what? The entire Costello organization?" Rafa laughs bitterly. "Dante, be realistic. They outnumber us three to one, and that's just their soldiers. If we include their allied families—"
"I don't care about the numbers."
"Well you should," Vito snaps, and the room falls silent. "Because I won't risk a war that destroys everything we've built over one person. Not even Sofia."
The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
"So what are you saying?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"I'm saying we're out of options." Vito stands, beginning to pace behind his chair. "Four days isn't enough time to find an alternative solution. It's not enough time to relocate Sofia somewhere they can't find her. And it's not enough time to eliminate the threat entirely."
"There has to be another way."
"There isn't." Marco's voice is matter-of-fact, final. "We've exhausted every avenue. The marriage alliance is the only thing that ends this without total war."
I stare at him, feeling something crack inside my chest. "You're talking about handing over an eighteen-year-old girl to a family known for torturing their enemies. You're talking about sacrificing Sofia to save your own skins."
"I'm talking about saving hundreds of lives," Vito fires back. "I'm talking about preserving the family that has fed and sheltered you for over a decade. I'm talking about making the hard choice that needs to be made."
"The hard choice?" I step forward, my control finally snapping. "The hard choice would be fighting for her. The hard choice would be finding a way to protect someone under our care instead of throwing her to the wolves the moment things get difficult."
"Dante—"
"No, let me finish." My voice is deadly quiet now, more dangerous than if I were shouting.
"You took me in when I was thirteen years old.
You gave me a home, a purpose, a family.
You taught me that loyalty meant protecting the people we care about, no matter the cost. And now you're telling me that was all bullshit? "
Vito's face hardens. "Watch your tone."
"Or what? You'll hand me over to the Costellos too?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Tell me, boss—where does it end? Who else are you willing to sacrifice to avoid a fight? Rina? Elena? Gianna? Or just the ones who aren't married to you yet?"
The room erupts. Marco shoots to his feet, Rafa starts shouting, but all I can focus on is Vito's expression—the cold calculation that tells me he's already made his decision.
"Four days," he says quietly, and his voice cuts through the chaos. "We have four days to make a decision that I can't make alone."
I stare at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this decision affects more than just Sofia. It affects every family in our network, every soldier under our protection, every business we run." Vito's voice is carefully controlled. "A decision this big—one that could lead to all-out war—can't be made by one man."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm calling a summit. Tomorrow night. All the families under our protection, all the major players in our network. They'll vote on whether we hand Sofia over or go to war."
My blood runs cold. "You know exactly what they're going to say."
"Do I?"
"Yes, you do." I step forward, my control finally snapping. "They're going to choose the option that protects their own interests. They're going to vote to sacrifice one girl to save their own skins. And you know it."
"The decision will be democratic—"
"Democratic?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You're washing your hands of this, boss. You're playing Pontius Pilate, letting other people make the choice so you don't have to live with the guilt."
The room goes dead silent. Marco's face goes white, and Rafa actually takes a step back. You don't compare the Don to a biblical figure who betrayed an innocent man. You especially don't do it in front of witnesses.
Vito's eyes turn to ice. "What did you just say to me?"
I should back down. I should apologize, show respect, remember my place. But all I can think about is Sofia in that basement, asking me what the meeting was about, telling me she had a right to know what was happening to her life.
"You heard me. You're going to let a room full of men who've never met Sofia decide whether she lives or dies. You're going to put her fate up for a vote like she's some kind of business decision instead of a human being."
"Dante—" Marco starts, but Vito raises a hand to silence him.
"If it were just my decision," Vito says quietly, dangerously, "I wouldn't hand her over. But I'm not just Sofia's brother-in-law. I'm the head of this family, and I have responsibilities to hundreds of people who depend on me to keep them safe."
"So you're going to let other people make the hard choice for you."
"I'm going to let the people who will be affected by the consequences have a voice in the decision."
"Bullshit." The word comes out like a gunshot. "You know exactly how that vote is going to go. Every capo, every underboss, every family head in that room is going to choose their own survival over Sofia's. And you're counting on it because it means you don't have to be the one to give the order."
Vito stands slowly, and I can see the exact moment our relationship—everything he's been to me for the past fifteen years—fractures, maybe beyond repair.
"You're questioning my loyalty to this family," he says, his voice deadly quiet.
"I'm questioning your courage."
The words hang in the air like a death sentence. In the silence that follows, I can hear my own heartbeat, can feel the weight of what I've just said.
"Get out," Vito says finally.
"Boss—"
"Get out of my sight before I do something we'll both regret."
I don't move. "What about Sofia? What am I supposed to tell her?"
"You tell her nothing. You go back to the safehouse, you collect her, and you bring her back to the city tomorrow for the summit. She'll hear the decision when everyone else does."
"You're going to make her sit there while a room full of strangers votes on whether to hand her over to be tortured?"
"I'm going to give her the chance to speak for herself before the vote is taken. More than that, I can't do."
I stare at him, this man who saved my life, who gave me everything I have, who's now asking me to deliver Sofia to what amounts to her trial.
"And if I refuse?"
Vito's smile is cold as winter. "Then you're no longer part of this family. And men who betray the family don't tend to live very long."
The threat hangs between us, clear and final. But there's something else in his expression now—something that looks almost like regret.
"Fifteen years, Dante. Fifteen years I've been like a father to you. Don't throw that away over a girl you've known for a few weeks."
"It's not about how long I've known her."
"Then what is it about?"
I look at him for a long moment, trying to find the words to explain what I don't fully understand myself.
"It's about being the kind of man you taught me to be," I say finally. "The kind who protects people who can't protect themselves. The kind who does what's right even when it's hard."
"And you think turning against your family is right?"
"I think letting a room full of men vote on whether to sacrifice an innocent girl is wrong."
Vito nods slowly, like I've just confirmed something he suspected.
"Go get Sofia," he says. "Bring her back tomorrow at eight. The summit will be held here, in the main conference room. Details will be provided in the morning."
As I turn to leave, he calls after me.
"Dante."
I stop, but I don't turn around.
"Don't do anything stupid. For both your sakes."
The warning is clear. Step out of line, and we're both dead.
But as I walk out of that conference room, one thought keeps echoing in my mind: some things are worth dying for.
And Sofia Gallo might just be one of them.