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The Chief of Police, John Banner, met me as soon as I stepped through the department’s doors. He looked concerned, though not angry, which means that Dante couldn’t be in that much trouble. Banner was a good man from what little I knew. My mother had more interactions with him than I ever had, especially during my transition. He was reasonable and actually cared for the city he lorded over—unlike many previous Chiefs I’d known during my father’s time as Don.
“How is he?” I asked.
Banner glanced over his shoulder towards the holding cells beyond the small cubicles. Dante was in a cell by himself, hunched over in a corner. Even from far away, I could tell he looked like shit. But I had probably looked the same after finding my father.
“Not good,” John replied quietly. “But understandable given the circumstances.”
“What happened?”
He blew out a quick breath, running one hand along the stubble at his chin. He was pretty fit for a man in his late forties, with just enough gray hair to give him the title of silver fox. “There was a drive-by. His mother was hit and died at the scene. Dante wouldn’t let go of her until I convinced him, but he still hasn’t given us an explanation.”
I nodded absently. That had all been explained to me over the phone before I drove over here. “So you don’t know who shot Marie? Who was driving the car?”
“All of the street cams had been temporarily disabled on that route. We couldn’t see anything, and there were no plates on the cars from what witnesses have said.”
“Do you think these attacks have anything to do with my father’s death?”
John winced at my abrupt tone. “Honestly, Mrs. Rosania, I’m not sure of anything right now. Lately, there have been more attacks across the city, all unlinked with different targets. Marie Scarano was one of many attacks this week so far.”
And probably all of those attacks used the guns from my warehouse, I thought warily. I needed to know who was killed in those attacks as soon as possible, just to make sure it wouldn’t start a war between my family and the other mafias strewn throughout the city. But that would have to wait.
“And the—” I was surprised to find my voice catching. Clearing my throat, I forced myself to continue. “The bullet?”
“We have a lab running diagnostics on the casing we found on the street now. But I’m not sure if we’ll get much from it.”
“Alright. Thank you.” There really wasn’t much I could do if the police were still floundering. We hadn’t covered much ground from our end either. “Can I get him now? Or do you still need to keep him locked up?” I pointedly glanced at Dante over John’s shoulder.
“He’s free to go whenever he wishes. He just hasn’t left.”
John let me pass through the precinct without a problem. I stopped just outside of the cell, waiting for Dante to at least acknowledge me with a look, a glare, something. But he didn’t. He sat there, elbows on his knees, his suit still smeared with blood. His dark hair was messy in a way I’d never seen before.
“Dante?” John’s keys jangled as he unlocked the door. Still, Dante didn’t move.
Hesitantly, I entered the cell, moving to sit beside him. The muscle along his clenched jaw twitched, but he still refused to look at me. John went back to his office, giving us some space. Dante sat like a stone beside me, his body rigid and tight.
“Dante, look at me.”
His head turned slightly. “What do you want.”
I stifled a small gasp, the fury in his eyes almost a tangible thing. He looked…broken. Destroyed. I knew now that any good that might have once been hidden inside was destroyed. Losing his mother had done something to him that my father’s death hadn’t done to me. I’d always known my father would someday die—whether by bullet or assassination—but Dante had never expected to lose his mother, just I never would expect to lose mine.
“Let’s go home,” I said quietly. I didn’t dare reach for him. He didn’t want comfort right now. He wanted revenge.
“I know,” I whispered. “I know you want to kill them as much as I do. And we will. But right now, you need to come home.”
A sneer twisted his lips as he turned away from me, but he stood. I followed him out of the cell, waiting patiently as they filled out the paperwork to discharge him and handed back his belongings. His car was still at the cafe, so I would drive.
The entire car ride back to my family’s apartment complex was dead silent. He wouldn’t even look at me. It felt odd. Usually, I was the one brooding in hateful quiet, but something had irrevocably changed. I parked the car in the underground garage, cutting the engine. Dante didn’t move, so neither did I.
“Look, Dante—”
“I know what you’re going to say.” His voice was rough, scratchy, like he’d shouted for hours before falling silent.
“What was I going to say?” I asked, a bit impatiently.
“That we’ll catch whoever did this. We’ll get revenge. The same bullshit we always say when one of us dies.”
My mouth snapped shut. He was right, of course. That was exactly what I’d been about to say. It’s what I said in the precinct. It’s what we always said. But Dante wasn’t finished.
