“I don’t care what Petrov thinks. The girl stays under my protection… No, that’s not negotiable… Then let them try. They’ll learn what happens when they come for what’s mine.”
The conversation goes on for another ten minutes, his voice getting progressively colder and more dangerous.
When he finally emerges, he finds me waiting in the hallway.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know things are getting worse.”
“They’ll handle it.”
“You mean you’ll handle it with violence and intimidation.”
“Whatever works.”
I step closer, looking up at him. “What if we just gave them what they want? Told them I don’t know anything useful?”
“They wouldn’t believe you. And even if they did, you’re still a loose end. Still someone who witnessed something they’d prefer stayed buried.”
“So what, I just stay here forever while you fight off enemies I created?”
“You didn’t create anything. Antonio Marchetti created this mess. You’re just caught in the middle of it.”
“Being caught in the middle still puts everyone around me in danger. Including Luca.”
His eyes flash. “Luca is safe here. That’s non-negotiable.”
“But for how long? What happens when this escalates into actual war?”
“Then I win the war.”
The certainty in his voice should reassure me, but instead it just makes the fear worse. The other families think Dante’s hunting the ledger for power. They’re forming new alliances, shifting territories, preparing for conflict.
And it’s all because I called him that night. Because I needed protection and he gave it without hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“For what?”
“For bringing this to your door. For making you choose between protecting me and maintaining peace with the other families.”
He cups my face, forcing me to look at him. “I chose you the moment you called. Everything else is just consequences I’m willing to live with.”
“But Luca?—”
“Is safer here with me than he would be anywhere else in the world. Stop questioning that.”
I want to believe him. Want to trust that he can protect us from everything coming our way. But I can see the storm gathering, can feel the tension building like pressure before an explosion.
War is coming. And I’m the reason for it.
Later that week, another memory surfaces during a session.
I’m describing the woman’s voice again when suddenly I remember something else.
“She was talking to someone. Giving orders about the cleanup. And she said a name.”
Dante leans forward. “What name?”
