“I don’t not want you to call Dad.”
Marco made a face, half disgust, half nostalgia. “You know he’s already expecting us,” he said. “He’ll have a dinner reservation, matching burner cells, and a new set of IDs waiting under the bread basket.”
Dante shrugged. “Better him than the guys with silencers. We’ll hit Chicago, wait for the drop to go viral, and then see what happens.” He looked at me, almost apologetic. “It’s not a forever plan, but it’ll get us there.”
We left Buffalo in the gray half-light before dawn, the city receding behind us like a fever dream. Marco drove, Dante rode shotgun, and I curled in the back seat, head pressed to the glass, watching the world blur into indifference. I checked the news on my phone every ten minutes. At first, nothing. Justthe usual churn: an NFL star’s DUI, a senator’s “regret,” the latest in a string of unseasonably warm Decembers. But halfway through Pennsylvania, it hit—a headline buried below the fold, but unmistakable: TORONTO BIOTECH FACILITY UNDER INVESTIGATION AFTER ALLEGED “UNETHICAL HUMAN RESEARCH.”
I read the whole article twice, then texted the link to Dante, even though he was in the front, two feet away. He didn’t say anything—just scrolled, grunted, and flicked a look at Marco, who responded with a muttered, “Well, that’s one way to do it.”
“Is it enough?” I asked, voice rough from sleep and too many gas station coffees.
Dante shrugged, eyes flicking back to the road. “It’s a start. But it’s not the kind of story that gets resolved. They’ll drag it out, let it die on the vine, or make it about a few ‘bad actors.’ That’s how these things go.”
“What about us?”
“Oh, yeah, we’re not in the clear,” he said. “But at least we’re in the States. So that’s something.”
“I want to stop by my apartment for some things,” I said.
Dante shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he replied. “But if you give me a list, I can stop for you.”
I looked him up and down. “Are you doing anything else?”
His throat bobbed. “I have to talk to someone. Won’t be long.”
“Your dad?”
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
He stood, brushing a hand over my wet hair like it might be the last time. “Get some rest, Jade.”
I watched him walk to the door, back straight, steps quiet. When it closed behind him, I sat in the silence for a long time, towel clinging to my skin, heart thudding like a warning bell I couldn’t shut off.
Something was ending. I could feel it. I just didn’t know what
Chapter 24: Dante
Iwaited for Jade to fall asleep before I took Marco aside. He looked better. The hospital in Toronto had clearly done him some good. That felt like forever ago, even though it hadn’t been more than a week.
We were outside and I watched as he lit a cigarette. “That was some adventure,” he said. “Now we’re back and…what? We can’t stay where we’ve lived all our lives?”
“Yeah, it’s complicated,” I replied. “I intend to take our city back. From Enzo, from Caruso. From the fucking FBI itself if I have to.”
Marco scoffed.
“You sound like Dad. ‘Take the city back, one body at a time.’” I shook my head, but the laugh came out anyway. “Not one body at a time. Just the right bodies, in the right rooms, at the right hour,” I said.
“Yeah, but I’m going to need your help,” I said. “I’m going to send Jade to Boston while I sort all this out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I still need to speak to Tristan Callahan, but he owes me a favor. He should be able to keep her there until, you know, I’m out of the woods with the FBI at least.”
“Won’t that make Caruso go after the Callahans?”
I held back laughter. “You think Caruso is going to go after a Boston family? He’s greedy, not insane.”
Marco stubbed out his cigarette, then gave me a look. “So you’re going to run her out of state with nothing but a laptop and a burner phone? You better spring for the good Airbnb at least. She’ll kill you if it’s got a Murphy bed.”
