Chapter 22
Dante
The city traffic is a nightmare, made worse by the rain that started as a light drizzle and is now coming down in sheets. Every red light feels like an eternity, every slow-moving car another obstacle between me and getting back to the safehouse. Between me and Sofia.
My hands are still shaking from the confrontation with Vito. Fifteen years. Fifteen fucking years of loyalty, of doing whatever was asked of me without question, and it comes down to this—being ordered to deliver an innocent girl to what amounts to her trial.
Some things are worth dying for.
The thought keeps echoing in my head as I navigate through the congested streets. Is Sofia worth throwing away everything I've built? Is she worth betraying the only family I've ever known?
The answer should be no. The logical answer, the one that keeps me alive and maintains everything I've worked for, is no.
But every time I think about her in that basement, looking up at me with those green eyes, asking for the right to know what's happening to her own life, the answer feels like yes.
Traffic finally starts to thin as I reach the outskirts of the city, but the rain only gets worse. What started as heavy drops is now a torrential downpour that has the windshield wipers working overtime and still barely keeping up.
I should probably pull over, wait for it to pass. But the thought of staying still, of having more time to think about the choice I'm facing, makes my chest tight with anxiety. I need to keep moving. I need to get back to Sofia and figure out how to tell her what's coming.
The country roads are even worse. No streetlights, no other cars to follow, just me and the storm and the weight of what I have to do tomorrow night. The headlights barely penetrate the wall of rain, and I have to slow to a crawl just to stay on the road.
That's when I see it—a flash of brown and white in the headlights, eyes reflecting the light like mirrors.
A deer, frozen in the middle of the road.
I jerk the wheel hard to the left, tires screaming against the wet asphalt. For a moment, the car seems to float, weightless, before gravity takes hold and sends me sliding sideways down the embankment.
The world becomes a chaos of spinning metal and shattering glass. The car rolls once, twice, before slamming into something solid with a sickening crunch that seems to echo inside my skull.
Pain explodes through my head, sharp and blinding. I can taste blood, metallic and warm, and when I try to move, my body doesn't respond the way it should. My vision is blurry, everything doubled and spinning.
I'm slumped over the steering wheel, the deployed airbag deflating around me. The windshield is spider-webbed with cracks, and steam rises from what's left of the hood. The smell of coolant and something that might be gas fills the air.
I need to get out. Need to assess the damage. Need to call for help.
My phone. Where's my phone?
I reach for it with clumsy, uncooperative fingers, but when I find it, the screen is cracked and black. Dead.
Fuck.
I try to sit up, but the movement sends another wave of agony through my skull. My left shoulder is on fire, and when I look down, I can see blood dripping onto my shirt from somewhere above my eyebrow.
How bad is it? How bad am I hurt?
The questions float through my mind like they're coming from somewhere far away. Everything feels distant, muffled, like I'm underwater.
I need to stay conscious. Need to figure out where I am, how to get help. Sofia will be waiting for me at the safehouse. She'll wonder what happened when I don't come back.
But the darkness at the edges of my vision is growing stronger, pulling at me with fingers I can't fight off.
My eyes are starting to close when I hear something that doesn't make sense.
A voice. Soft, feminine, scared.
"Dante? Dante, can you hear me?"
That's impossible. I'm alone. I've been alone since I left the city. There's no one else here, no one who could be—
Through the haze of pain and confusion, I see a face above me. Green eyes, dark hair, features I know as well as my own reflection.
Sofia.
But that can't be right. Sofia is back at the safehouse, miles away, probably asleep in her room with Elena and Gianna watching over her. She's not here. She can't be here.
"Stay with me," the voice says, and there are hands on my face now, gentle and warm. "Don't you dare pass out on me."
I try to speak, try to ask how she's here, what's happening, but the words won't come. The darkness is winning, pulling me down despite my efforts to fight it.
The last thing I see before everything goes black is Sofia's face, rain-soaked and terrified, her lips moving in words I can't hear.
But how could that be?
How could she possibly be here?