Chapter 27
DANTE
Hours later. Stronger now. The fog has lifted. My body still aches, but my mind is sharp. Sharp enough to need answers.
They file in one by one. Renzo first, face unreadable. Gia next, exhaustion carved into every line. Nico follows, subdued, none of his usual charm. Marco last, hovering near the door like he’s not sure he should be here.
Cassia hasn’t left her chair. Her hand is still in mine.
My family. All of them. Here.
“Talk,” I say.
Gia goes first. Clinical. Precise.
“Tetrodotoxin base mixed with a secondary compound. Slow-acting. Designed to mimic cardiac arrest.” She doesn’t look at her notes. “You were twenty minutes from death when we identified it. Maybe less.”
Twenty minutes. Cristo.
“What did Romano give up?”
Renzo steps forward. “Names. Stefano Benedetti is running their expansion into our territory. His uncle Flavio handles their finances. They’ve got a lawyer, Robert Fontaine, washing payments through a real estate firm in Metairie.”
“How long?”
“Years. Romano said they approached him two years ago. Started small. Information about our operations, shipping schedules, which soldiers were unhappy.” A muscle ticks in Renzo’s cheek.
“He gave them everything. Every vulnerability. Every weakness. He was supposed to accelerate the timeline after Papa died, but then Cassia started finding discrepancies. He panicked.”
Cazzo.
Seven years of skimming on his own. Then the Benedettis found a man who was already betraying us and gave him a bigger purpose.
Thirty-two years at our table. Thirty-two years of my father’s trust.
I look at Nico. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed. The muscle beneath his ear jumping. His eyes red at the rims.
“You got Dr. Biagi here.”
He blinks. Surprised I’m addressing him.
“Gia needed a toxicologist. Biagi owed me a favor.” He shrugs, deflecting like he always does. “Made a few calls.”
“Those calls kept me alive.”
Nico goes still. The mask slips for a second. His throat works. His eyes go glassy before he blinks it away.
“Yeah, well.” He clears his throat. “Someone had to be useful.”
I don’t look away. Let him see I mean it.
Then I turn to Marco.
He’s still by the door. Shoulders tight. Braced for criticism. That’s what he gets from me, more often than not.
“Marco.”
He straightens.
“The call logs. The encrypted communications you found on Romano’s phone.” I study his face. “You brought them to Cassia instead of me or Renzo. Why?”
His shoulders square. “Because you would have dismissed me. She used them and found the traitor.”
Smart. Smarter than I gave him credit for.
“You were right.” I let the words land. “Good work.”
His whole body changes. Tension drops from his shoulders. His eyes widen, then narrow, searching my face for the catch.
Seven years. I kept him out. Dio. Told myself it was protection. It was cowardice.
“When this is done,” I say, “we talk. About your role. What comes next.”
He nods. His jaw sets to keep it steady. His fists unclench at his sides, finger by finger, like he’s letting go of something he’s been gripping for years.
I look at Cassia. She’s watching me, her chin lifted, her fingers pressing into mine.
She saw my youngest brother when no one else bothered to look. Equipped my family with what they needed to save me.
“Operations,” I say, shifting back. “What’s the status?”
Renzo answers. “Zio Pietro’s handling day-to-day. I’ve doubled security on all properties.” A pause. “The Benedettis are gone.”
“Gone.”
“Stefano and Flavio cleared out twelve hours after Romano disappeared. Private plane to Milan. By the time we tracked the flight, they’d connected somewhere else. Could be anywhere by now.”
They ran. The second they knew Romano was compromised, they ran.
Fuck.
“The lawyer? Fontaine?”
“Dead. Found in his office this morning. Made to look like a heart attack.” Renzo’s hand stills at his side. “They’re cleaning house. Cutting every thread that leads back to them.”
Cowards. They tried to kill me, and now they’re running.
“They can’t run forever.”
“No.” Renzo’s voice is flat. “They can’t.”
“Is there more?”
Silence.
Renzo glances at Gia. Nico shifts against the wall. Marco looks at the floor.
There’s more. Something they don’t want to hand me.
“Gia.” My voice drops. “What is it?”
She hasn’t moved since she finished the medical report. Rigid. Arms crossed. Staring past me.
“The poison.” Too controlled. “I identified the compound. Stabilized you. But a detail kept bothering me. The presentation. The progression. The timeline to cardiac arrest.” She swallows. “It was familiar.”
“Familiar how?”
She meets my eyes.
“I pulled Papa’s autopsy records.”
Cristo.
The room goes cold.
Nico pushes off the wall. Marco’s head snaps up. Renzo turns to stone.
“Gia.” The word scrapes out of me.
“The compound signatures match.” Her voice cracks. “Same poison. Same mechanism. Same timeframe.”
No one breathes.
“Papa didn’t die of grief. Romano poisoned him.”
The words tear out of her. “He sat at our table for thirty-two years. Watched Papa grieve Mama. Pretended to be family. And then he murdered him.”
Nico makes a sound. Low. Wounded. He turns away, hand over his mouth.
Marco’s fists clench at his sides. His whole body trembling.
Renzo doesn’t move. But his face goes from ice to something feral. Something that wants to dig Romano up and kill him again.
“I couldn’t save him.” Tears streak down Gia’s face. “I was in the room when he collapsed. I told everyone it was his heart. I believed it. But it was murder. And I missed it.”
Her voice shatters.
“He cried at the funeral. Romano. Stood there with tears streaming down his face and I thought he loved Papa. The whole time. The whole fucking time he was the one who killed him.”
Nico moves first. Crosses to her. Pulls her into his arms. The twins, holding each other the way they did when they were children. When the world got too big and too cruel and they only had each other.
Renzo’s hand goes to his pocket. The rosary. Mama’s rosary.
Marco hasn’t moved. Frozen by the door. Eyes wet. Our youngest, who has no memory of Mama, who worshipped Papa.
Cassia’s fingers tighten around mine.
Cazzo.
The rage hits my chest like a fist. White-hot. My pulse hammers against my skull and my hands shake and I can’t fucking breathe.
I want to ask Renzo how Romano died. Want to know it was slow. Want to know he suffered. Want to know the last thing that man heard was the name of the father he murdered.
But I look at my family. At Gia sobbing in Nico’s arms. At Marco shaking by the door. At Renzo gripping Mama’s rosary so hard his knuckles have gone white.
They don’t need the Don right now. They need their brother.
“He’s dead,” I say. My voice cuts through the room. Brings them back. “Romano is dead. But we need to know if he acted alone or on Benedetti orders.”
Gia pulls back from Nico. Wipes her face. Forces herself to focus.
“The compound is specialized. Expensive. Hard to source without connections.” Her voice steadies. Doctor mode. The only thing holding her together. “If the Benedettis ordered Papa’s death, this isn’t just betrayal.”
“Then it’s war.”
I look at each of them. Renzo, still as a blade. Gia, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Nico, jaw locked, eyes wet. Marco, standing straighter. Fists still clenched.
“They think running to Europe puts them out of reach.” I keep my voice level. “They’re wrong. We find everything. Every name. Every connection. Every safe house, every bank account, every person who ever shook their hand. And when we’re ready, we bring it to their door.”
Renzo nods once. A promise sealed in silence.
“But not tonight.” I hold his gaze. “Tonight we grieve. Tomorrow we plan.”
“And the Benedettis?” Marco’s voice is rough. First time he’s spoken since the revelation.
I look at my youngest brother. The rage in him is raw, untrained. Burning where uncertainty used to live.
“The Benedettis killed our father and tried to kill me. They can run to Milan. They can run to the ends of the fucking earth.” I let the words settle. “Santoros don’t forget. And we don’t forgive.”
“They’ll surface,” Renzo says. “Men like that always do.”
“And when they do.” I look at each of them. “Together.”
“Together,” Nico says. His voice rough.
Marco nods.
Gia wipes the last of her tears. “Together.”
The silence holds. Nobody moves. The beeping of my monitors fills the space between us. Then Renzo puts his hand on Gia’s shoulder. Nico’s chin dips once. Marco unclenches his fists, finger by finger, like he’s making a decision about what to do with his hands from now on.
Family.
“Now I need everyone out.”
They move toward the door. Renzo’s hand on Gia’s shoulder. Nico ruffling Marco’s hair like they’re kids again, earning a shove that’s more affection than annoyance.
Cassia doesn’t move.
“That means you too.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t.”
She’s right. Dio, she’s right.
The door closes behind them. Silence settles.
I look at her. This woman who saved my family while my heart was failing. Who saw my brother when I didn’t. Who handed us what we needed and then sat beside me through the worst night of her life.
Papa was murdered. Romano killed him. And I spent eleven years punishing myself for a lie.
But she’s here. Still here.
“Come here.”