Chapter 6 - The Price of My Father
For the first time since meeting Dante, I lied to him.
“I need air.”
He watched me carefully.
“We’re surrounded by armed guards.”
“I noticed.”
“Elena.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
That was the lie.
Twenty minutes later, I climbed through my childhood bedroom window.
At twenty-eight years old.
Like a teenager sneaking out after curfew.
Except teenagers generally weren’t carrying evidence capable of destroying a criminal empire.
I had left the real ledger behind.
What I carried was a photocopy missing several pages.
Insurance.
The kidnappers had texted my phone.
Not Dante’s.
Mine.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT YOUR FATHER ALIVE.
I took a rideshare two blocks away.
The destination was a warehouse in Red Hook.
Predictable.
Terrifying.
Stupid.
But Dad was inside.
At 1:13 a.m., I entered.
“Dad?”
Lights came on.
My father sat tied to a chair.
Alive.
I ran toward him.
“Elena, stop!”
A man stepped from the shadows.
Viktor Saranov.
The man from Vespers.
He smiled.
“Ledger.”
“Release him.”
“Ledger first.”
I held it up.
Viktor approached.
Dad shook his head violently.
“No.”
“I’m getting you home.”
“Elena, listen to me.”
Viktor grabbed the book.
Flipped through it.
His expression changed.
“This is incomplete.”
“So is my patience.”
The voice came from behind him.
Dante.
I almost cried from relief.
Gunmen appeared on the catwalks.
But so did Dante’s men.
Viktor grabbed me.
A pistol pressed against my temple.
Dante stopped.
His face became terrifyingly calm.
“I told you to come alone,” Viktor hissed.
“I did,” I said.
Dante’s eyes met mine.
“I didn’t.”
Viktor laughed.
“You followed her?”
Dante never looked away from me.
“I promised.”
Those two words hit harder than any declaration of love could have.
No one touches you.
Not while I’m breathing.
Viktor dragged me backward.
“Drop your weapon.”
Dante did.
“Kick it away.”
He obeyed.
My father shouted.
“Elena!”
I understood.
Dad slammed his chair sideways into Viktor’s knee.
Viktor stumbled.
I ducked.
Dante moved.
Chaos exploded.
When it ended, Viktor was bleeding on the floor and my father was free.
Dante crossed the warehouse toward me.
I expected anger.
Instead, he pulled me against him.
Hard.
His breath shook.
That frightened me more than shouting would have.
“You followed me.”
“Yes.”
“I told you not to.”
“Yes.”
“You could have died.”
“So could you.”
He pulled back.
His hands framed my face.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“Stop ordering me around.”
“Then stop doing things that make me lose ten years of my life.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then I kissed him.
This time there were no police watching.
No performance.
No excuse.
Dante hesitated for half a second.
Then kissed me back.
Later, Dad was taken somewhere secure.
Dante and I sat inside the SUV.
Neither mentioned the kiss.
Until I did.
“That was probably adrenaline.”
“Absolutely.”
“Means nothing.”
“Nothing whatsoever.”
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Then we both started laughing.
It felt almost normal.
Which should have warned me.
Back at the penthouse, Marco had news.
Viktor had talked.
Anton Volkov wasn’t the person behind everything.
Volkov was receiving orders.
“From who?” Dante asked.
Marco put a photograph on the table.
An older man.
Silver hair.
Elegant suit.
I didn’t recognize him.
Dante did.
His face drained of color.
“No.”
Sofia whispered, “Dante?”
He stared at the photograph.
“Where did you get this?”
“Viktor’s phone.”
Dante picked it up.
For the first time, his hands were shaking.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Dante looked at me.
“My uncle.”
The man who had raised him after his father died.
The man Dante believed had retired to Sicily eight years earlier.
Lorenzo Rossi.
Dante’s expression turned cold.
“My father trusted him more than anyone.”
My own father’s warning returned.
Trust nobody.
Then the cassette tape suddenly mattered more than the ledger.
We played it.
Static filled the room.
Antonio Rossi’s voice came first.
Then another man.
Lorenzo.
They were arguing about money.
Routes.
Politicians.
Then Antonio said:
“You’re stealing from this family.”
Lorenzo laughed.
“No, brother. I’m preparing to inherit it.”
The recording ended with Antonio saying one final sentence.
“If anything happens to me, Tomaso knows everything.”
Everyone looked at my father.
He closed his eyes.
Dante stood motionless.
His uncle hadn’t merely stolen money.
He had murdered Dante’s father.
And now he wanted the evidence erased.
Dante turned toward the window.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
He looked back.
“End it.”
But before anyone could move, the penthouse alarm screamed.
Marco checked the cameras.
Then swore.
Police vehicles surrounded the building.
Dozens.
Detective Hall stepped from the lead car.
May you like
And beside him stood Lorenzo Rossi.
Smiling.
