CHAPTER 24
SIENNA
The heavy black rotary phone in the corner of the room rang with a harsh, metallic trill that cut straight through the quiet of the farmhouse.
I pulled back from Dante’s mouth, my breath catching in my throat. The heat that had been building between us, thick and consuming, instantly fractured.
Dante didn't move immediately. He kept his hands resting firmly on my hips, his amber eyes locked on mine. He took a slow, deliberate breath, visibly forcing the Don back to the surface, before he lifted me off his lap and set me gently on the sofa beside him.
He walked over to the workbench and picked up the heavy receiver.
"Speak," Dante ordered.
I stayed on the worn leather sofa, pulling the edges of my sweater tightly around myself to ward off the sudden chill in the room. I watched the rigid line of his back as he listened to whatever Silas was reporting on the other end.
"Are you certain?" Dante asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet register.
He was quiet for another ten seconds.
"Leo is moving too fast," Dante murmured, his free hand resting flat against the cluttered workbench. "He’s panicked. Good. Let him make the mistake. Have the team in place by midnight."
He hung up the phone, the heavy plastic receiver clicking loudly into the cradle.
He turned around to face me. The exhaustion that had been weighing down his shoulders earlier was gone, replaced by a sharp, lethal focus.
"What did Silas say?" I asked, standing up from the sofa.
"Leo Vitiello isn't waiting," Dante told me, crossing the room.
"He bribed a federal clerk to get the transfer schedule.
The FBI is moving the confiscated ledgers from the temporary holding facility in Brooklyn to the main federal building in Manhattan tonight at 2:00 AM.
Leo is going to intercept the transport convoy on the Brooklyn Bridge. "
My heart gave a hard, sudden thump against my ribs. "Tonight? Dante, we are three hours away from the city."
"Which means we need to leave in ten minutes," he replied smoothly. He walked past me, heading toward the small bedroom where I had cleaned his arm. "Elias keeps a cache of untraceable weapons in the basement. I need to rearm."
I followed him into the short hallway. "If Leo is hitting a federal convoy, he’s going to bring a small army. You have Silas and Luca. You can't take on the Vitiello family and the FBI at the same time."
Dante stopped in the doorway of the bedroom.
He turned around, looking down at me. "I don't intend to fight the FBI, Sienna. I intend to let Leo do the heavy lifting. When his men breach the transport van and secure the ledgers, we will hit Leo’s extraction team.
We take the books and vanish before the federal backup arrives. "
It was a terrifying, incredibly narrow window of opportunity. If they were a minute too early, they would be caught in a firefight with federal agents. If they were a minute too late, Leo Vitiello would destroy the only evidence that proved my innocence.
"I’m going with you," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could even process the absolute insanity of the statement.
Dante’s eyes narrowed. "Absolutely not."
"You brought me to Miami," I argued, stepping closer to him. "You said you trusted your own eyes more than a perimeter wall."
"Miami was a private marina," Dante countered, his voice hardening. "This is the Brooklyn Bridge, Sienna. It is a federal transport route. There will be automatic weapons, police cruisers, and zero cover. You are staying here with Elias."
"Elias pointed a shotgun at your chest when we pulled up!" I snapped, gesturing toward the back door. "I am not staying in a cabin in the woods with a paranoid bomb-maker while you go fight a war for my freedom. If you die on that bridge, what happens to me? What happens to Clara?"
Dante’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering dangerously near his temple.
He didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. He reached out, his large hands gripping my shoulders, his fingers pressing firmly into the soft cashmere of my sweater.
"I am not going to die on that bridge," he said, his voice a low, rough vibration that demanded absolute belief. "I am going to take back my city. I am going to clear your name. And then I am coming back to this farmhouse to get my wife."
I stared up at him. I wanted to argue. I wanted to fight him.
But looking into his whiskey-colored eyes, I saw the absolute, unyielding truth of his words.
He wasn't leaving me behind because he thought I was weak.
He was leaving me behind because the thought of me getting caught in the crossfire was the only thing that could distract him from the mission.
I was his only vulnerability.
I swallowed the tight knot of fear in my throat and nodded slowly. "Okay."
Dante let out a slow breath, the rigid tension in his shoulders relaxing a fraction of an inch. He pulled me forward, pressing a hard, desperate kiss to my forehead.
"Elias is rough around the edges, but he is loyal," Dante murmured against my skin. "Do not leave the house. Do not answer the secure phone. If I am not back by sunrise..."
He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"You will be back before sunrise," I told him fiercely, gripping the lapels of his shirt. "Because if you aren't, I am going to take one of Elias’s shotguns and come looking for you."
A dark, genuine smile touched the corner of his mouth. "I don't doubt that for a second."
He let go of me and walked into the bedroom. I watched from the doorway as he strapped his shoulder holster back into place over his clean shirt. He checked the magazine of the Glock, his movements precise and stripped of hesitation.
Ten minutes later, we were standing by the back door of the farmhouse.
The night air was freezing. Elias was standing on the porch, holding a set of keys.
"The black truck in the barn," Elias grunted, tossing the keys to Dante. "It’s armored. Plates are clean. Don't bring it back with bullet holes."
"I make no promises," Dante replied, catching the keys effortlessly.
He turned to me. The porch light cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the faded scars on his jaw and the lethal focus in his eyes. He didn't say goodbye. He didn't offer any final promises. He simply reached out, his thumb brushing against my lower lip, a silent, absolute claim.
Then, he walked down the steps and disappeared into the dark barn.
A minute later, the heavy roar of a diesel engine shattered the quiet of the woods. The black truck pulled out, its headlights cutting through the trees, and sped down the gravel driveway.
I stood on the porch, watching the red taillights vanish into the night.
"You going to stand out here and freeze, or are you coming inside?" Elias asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.
I turned around. Elias was already walking back into the kitchen, not waiting for my answer.
I stepped back inside, pulling the heavy wooden door shut.
The farmhouse felt incredibly empty without Dante’s massive, grounding presence.
The chaotic mess of gun parts on the table no longer looked like an interesting quirk; it looked like a stark reminder of the violence currently hurtling toward New York.
I walked over to the leather sofa and sat down, pulling my knees to my chest.
"You want coffee?" Elias asked, pouring a dark, sludgy liquid into a chipped mug.
"No, thank you," I said quietly.
Elias took a sip of his coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter. He studied me for a long moment, his bushy eyebrows drawn together.
"You don't look like a mafia wife," he noted bluntly.
"I’m not," I replied, resting my chin on my knees. "I’m a hostage who got promoted."
Elias let out a sharp, barking laugh. "A hostage. Right. I’ve known Dante Morretti since he was a teenager. I built the charges for his first major hit. The boy doesn't take hostages. He takes territory. And he doesn't look at territory the way he looks at you."
I looked up at the old man. "How does he look at me?"
"Like he’s terrified," Elias said simply. He set his mug down. "Dante has never cared about anything he couldn't control. Money, power, soldiers... you can control all of that with a gun. You can't control a woman. Especially not one who looks at him the way you do."
"I don't look at him any specific way," I defended myself, though a warm flush crept up my neck.
"You look at him like he’s human," Elias corrected, his voice losing its gruff edge. "Nobody in his world looks at him like he’s human. They look at him like he’s a weapon.
You’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground right now, kid.
If he loses you to the Feds, he won't just burn the Vitiello family. He’ll burn the whole damn city. "
The weight of Elias’s words settled heavily in my chest.
I looked at the heavy black rotary phone sitting on the workbench.
It was almost midnight. Dante was halfway to the city. The trap was set.
I closed my eyes, resting my head against the back of the sofa, and prepared myself for the longest night of my life.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly, marking the seconds.
One hour passed. Then two.
At exactly 2:15 AM, the heavy black phone on the workbench began to ring.
My eyes snapped open.
Do not answer the secure phone. Dante’s order echoed in my head.
Elias walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. He walked over to the workbench and picked up the receiver.
"Yeah," Elias grunted.
He listened for ten seconds. His bushy eyebrows drew together in a tight, angry line. He didn't ask any questions. He just hung up the phone.
He turned to look at me. The casual, gruff demeanor was gone.
"What is it?" I asked, standing up from the sofa, my heart slamming against my ribs. "Is it Dante? Is he hurt?"
"Dante is fine," Elias said, his voice tight. "He got the ledgers. The Vitiello crew is wiped out on the bridge."
A massive wave of relief washed over me, so strong my knees actually buckled slightly. He did it. He cleared my name.
"Then why do you look like that?" I asked, catching my balance against the arm of the sofa.
Elias walked toward a heavy metal gun safe in the corner of the room. He began punching a code into the keypad.
"Because Leo Vitiello wasn't on the bridge," Elias said, pulling the heavy steel door open. He reached inside, pulling out a tactical shotgun and a box of shells. "Leo used the bridge hit as a distraction."
The blood drained completely from my face. "A distraction for what?"
Elias racked the shotgun with a loud, terrifying clack.
"For the real target," Elias said, looking directly at me. "Leo’s men just breached the perimeter of the Morretti estate."
The room spun.
"Clara," I choked out, the name tearing at my throat.
"Luca is there. He’s holding them off in the west wing," Elias said, moving quickly toward the back door. "Dante is turning the truck around. He’s heading back to New York, but he’s an hour away."
"We have to go," I demanded, running toward the door, entirely forgetting that I was unarmed and three hours away from the fight. "We have to help them."
Elias grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
"We aren't going anywhere, Sienna," he said, his voice dropping to a harsh, absolute whisper. "Leo didn't just send men to the estate."
I stared at him, the true horror of the situation finally clicking into place.
Elias looked past me, his eyes fixing on the single window facing the dark driveway.
"He sent them here, too."