Dante #2
“Same grumpy sunshine as before,” Luca teased. “I found something.”
Dante’s body went on alert. “What did you find?”
“An alliance ledger from twenty-eight years ago,” Luca said.
Elena moved closer to him, and Dante switched to speaker. “What does it say?” he asked.
Luca’s voice was tight. “Camorra, Romano, Hale, and Vale. They were all a part of the alliance.”
Elena’s grip tightened around Dante’s hand. “All four?” she asked.
“Yes,” Luca said.
“What were they doing?” Dante asked.
“Building a joint financial network,” Luca breathed.
“Crimson Holdings?” Dante asked.
“No,” Luca said. “There was something before it.”
Dante frowned. “What was it?”
“They called it the Crimson Accord.”
Elena went pale. “What was the purpose of the accord?”
“Shared money, shared territory, and shared protection,” Luca said.
“That doesn't sound unusual,” Dante said.
“It wasn't,” Luca said.
“Then what is unusual?”
Luca went quiet. “The collateral clause.”
Dante’s stomach dropped. “What collateral clause?” Elena whispered.
Luca exhaled. “If one family betrayed the agreement, the others could seize its assets.”
“It was about money?” Dante asked.
“Assets,” Luca said again.
“That’s not the same thing?” Elena asked.
“No,” Luca said, “it’s not the same thing.”
Elena’s voice shook. “What counted as an asset?” Dante already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.
Luca finally sighed and said, “Blood heirs.”
Dante’s vision went red. “What the fuck?” Elena released his hand, and he looked at her. Her face had gone white.
“You want to explain that?” Dante demanded.
“The language is old-world. It looks symbolic,” Luca said.
“What do you mean by looks?” Elena asked.
“I’m reading it exactly as it was written,” Luca said.
“Then read it to us,” Dante said.
Luca did. “The first blood heir born after sealing shall stand as living bond between houses. So long as the bond survives, the accord survives.”
Dante stared at Elena, and she shook her head. “No.”
Luca continued. “There’s another line.”
“Just say it,” Dante growled.
“If blood betrays blood, the bond returns all holdings to the remaining houses.”
Elena backed away from him, and Dante reached for her. She held up a hand. “Don’t.” He stepped back from her, giving her some space. “What does that mean?” she asked.
Luca answered carefully. “It means Crimson Holdings may have been built around you because you were the first heir born after the agreement.”
Her voice broke. “So I was collateral.” No one answered, and that seemed to be answer enough. Elena laughed, and it was a terrible sound. Dante hated it, and he ended the call without warning because she had heard enough.
He crossed the room and stood in front of her. “Elena.”
“No.” She paced away from him. “My father knew.”
“Yes, he did,” Dante agreed.
“He knew before I was born,” she said.
“Probably,” Dante breathed.
“My whole family knew,” she said.
“We don't know that,” Dante insisted.
“Stop saying that!” She turned on him. “Everyone knew about this except me!” Her eyes filled with unshed tears.
“My father, Hale, Vale, and the Camorras. Everyone gets to have secrets, and I get to be the fucking collateral.” Dante’s chest tightened. He stepped closer to her, and she backed away from him.
He stopped, not wanting to push her. “You are not collateral.”
“The ledger says I am,” she reminded.
“I don’t give a fuck what the ledger says,” Dante shouted
“It existed before I could walk,” she said.
“And you’re grown now.” Her brow furrowed, but Dante kept going. “You can choose what happens now.”
“That doesn’t erase anything that’s happened,” she insisted.
“No, it doesn’t.” He softened his voice. “But it means they don’t own you anymore.”
“What if they think they do?” she questioned.
Dante’s expression hardened. “Then they learn the hard way that it’s not true.”
“How?” she asked.
He looked at her. “Painfully.” Despite everything, a small laugh escaped her.
Elena’s damn phone buzzed with another unknown number, and Dante’s entire body tightened. Elena looked at him, and he shook his head. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she insisted.
“You were about to.”
“Yes, I was.” The phone buzzed again with a text this time. Elena opened it, and her face changed.
Dante stepped closer. “What’s wrong?” She handed him the phone. A photograph filled the screen. It was old and grainy, of Antonio Romano. He was standing beside Vincenzo Hale. The date stamped at the bottom of the photo was two weeks before Antonio died. Underneath was one message.
ASK DANTE WHO PULLED THE TRIGGER.
He went completely still as Elena looked at him.
“Dante?” He couldn't speak because suddenly he remembered a job, two years ago.
Luca had sent him to clean up a Romano problem.
He hadn't been given a name, only a location and an order to take out one target at a warehouse. He made sure that there were no witnesses, and Dante had fired once, hitting the man’s center mass.
The man had fallen before Dante ever saw his face clearly.
His stomach turned. There was no fucking way that any of this was a coincidence.
“Elena—” Her expression changed. She looked afraid, not for herself, but of him, and Dante hated that more than anything.
“What?” she whispered. He looked at the photograph again, at Antonio’s coat. It was dark wool with distinctive silver buttons. He remembered those buttons. Fuck. He remembered them.
“Elena.”
Her eyes filled. “What do you know?” Dante’s chest felt like it was being crushed. For the first time in years, he wanted to lie. He wanted it badly, but he had just promised her he wouldn’t do that to her. So he gave her the truth.
“I might have been there the night your father died,” he said.
The room went silent as Elena stared at him. “What do you mean by might?”
Dante forced himself to hold her gaze. “I was sent to kill a man.”
Her face drained of color. “You killed my father?”
“I didn't know his name,” he insisted.
“No,” she shouted.
“Elena—” He reached for her, but she backed away.
“You killed him?” she squeaked.
“I don't know,” he admitted. He had no idea what the truth was anymore.
“You just said—”
“I said I was there,” he said.
“And you fired the gun that killed him?” she added.
“Yes.” Her hand flew to her mouth. Dante took one step forward, and she recoiled from him. He stopped immediately because that nearly destroyed him. “Elena.”
“Don’t come near me.” The words hit like a bullet to his chest, but he obeyed her wishes.
Her voice shook. “Was it him?”
Dante looked at the photograph and then at her. “I don’t know.”
“Look at me,” she spat. He did. “Was it my father?”
Dante’s throat tightened. “I need to see the file.”
“That’s not an answer,” she insisted.
“It’s the only one I can give you right now, Elena,” he whispered. She stared at him like she no longer knew him, and maybe she didn’t. Maybe he didn’t know himself either.
“I slept with you,” she breathed.
“Elena—”
“I trusted you,” she cried.
“I know,” he whispered.
“You promised me the truth,” she reminded.
“I’m giving it to you,” he promised.
“It’s too late.” She turned toward the door. Dante’s body moved before his brain caught up, and he stepped in front of it. Elena froze.
“Move,” she ordered.
“No.”
Her eyes flashed. “Dante.”
“You are not leaving this house alone,” he said. “Your life is still in danger.”
“I don't care,” she hissed.
“I do,” he insisted.
“That is no longer your problem,” she said. That hurt. He deserved it, but it still hurt.
“Elena, whoever sent that message wants exactly this. They want you to run out of here and put yourself in danger. They’ll be able to get to you then,” he warned.
“Maybe,” she said.
“They want you angry,” he said.
“I am angry,” she spat.
“They want you afraid of me.”
“Well, that’s exactly what I am now,” she said. That one landed deepest. Dante stepped aside, not because he was letting her leave, but because he couldn’t stand seeing her trapped between him and the door anymore.
“You have every right to hate me,” he said.
Her eyes filled. “I don't know if I do.” That was worse. “But I need the truth.”
“You’ll get it,” Dante promised.
“How?” she asked.
Dante pulled out his phone and called Luca. “Get me the file from two years ago.”
Luca was silent. “What file?”
“The Romano warehouse file,” Dante said.
There was another long silence before Luca spoke. “Dante.” His blood went cold.
“You know what happened, don’t you?” Dante asked. Luca didn’t answer, and Dante closed his eyes because that was answer enough.
“Elena,” he whispered. She stared at him, and Dante looked back at the phone. “Luca, I need the truth. Tell me right now.”
Luca’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t know it was her father when I sent you.” Dante’s stomach dropped. Elena made a broken sound, and he turned toward her.
“No,” she shouted.
Luca continued. “We got bad intel.”
“Who gave it?” Dante asked.
“Hale,” Luca said. The room seemed to tilt, and Dante gripped the phone harder.
“Hale set the hit?” Dante asked.
“Yes.” Elena looked like she might collapse. Dante moved toward her, and she backed away from him.
“Why?” she asked.
Luca heard her. “I don't know.”
Dante’s jaw clenched. “Find out.”
“I am,” Luca said.
“Find Hale,” Elena said.
“I will,” Luca promised.
“No.” Dante’s voice went cold. “I’ll find him.
” He disconnected the call, and Elena stared at him.
The truth sat between them now—ugly, bloody, and impossible to take back.
Dante had spent years thinking blood washed off eventually, but he was wrong.
It didn’t. He knew that from the first chapter of his life with the Camorras, and now he understood why.
Sometimes blood didn’t stain your hands.
Sometimes it stained everything you touched, and Elena Romano had just discovered that the man protecting her might also be the man who killed her father.