He stares at me for a long moment, and I can see him rebuilding his walls, piece by piece, until he's back to being Dante the enforcer instead of just Dante.
"Fine," he says finally. "Let's go home."
Home. Like the cage I'm trapped in could ever be called home.
But I don't argue. I'm too exhausted, too emotionally wrung out to fight anymore. At least for now.
CHAPTER 15
Dante
Fifteen Years Ago
The school bellrang hours ago, dismissing students for the remainder of the day. Mom usually picks me up by four, but it's almost seven now, and she's still nowhere to be seen.
She's just working late, I tell myself, justifying why she might leave me here without a text or call. Every message I've sent her has gone undelivered, and every call has gone straight to voicemail—both common things when she's running point on a job for Don Vito.
Another ten minutes pass, then twenty, before a black Suburban pulls up to the curb in front of me. The rear passenger door opens and out climbs a tall man with dark hair. "Dante Mancini?"
"Who are you?" I question, hesitant to give this stranger any personal information.
"My name is Vittore Rosso, but you can call me Vito."
"You're my mom's boss." I state, confused as to why he's picking me up. "Where's my mom?"
Vito kneels in front of me on the pavement, his eyes soft as he rests a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. Your mother is dead. Come with me, and I'll make sure you have everything you need."
I hear the words, but I don't fully process them until I'm sitting in the back of the Escalade. The interior is warm, too warm, as I ride in the back seat next to Don Vito. He doesn't speak, nor does the driver who takes us farther away from familiarity with each street he turns down.
Vito's words reverberate inside my head, crashing against the inside of my skull with every turn of the car: "I'm sorry, son, your mother is dead."
It can't be possible. She was alive this morning. She dropped me off for school and promised she'd be here to pick me up! He's lying. He has to be lying. Mom can't be dead—she just can't.
She's the only family I have.
My mouth goes dry, the warmth of the backseat turning stifling as my breath catches in my throat. Vito leans forward, muttering something in Italian to the driver before handing me a bottle of water. I don't know how long we're on the road—it could be ten minutes or ten hours—but eventually the car comes to a stop outside the hospital.
Vito speaks, but the words are lost on me, nothing but nonsensical noise as he leads me inside. A man in scrubs leads us to an elevator, taking us down into the cold bowels of the hospital. Any sense of heat is sucked out of my body the moment the elevator doors open to the morgue.
The man in scrubs leads us around the corner to a plexiglass window, where we're met with my mother's lifeless body on display, nothing but a thin white sheet covering her.
I take a step forward, but realization quickly settles over me. It doesn't matter how close I get; Mom is still dead. Itdoesn't matter if I'm looking at her through a window or if I'm in the damn autopsy room with her—dead is dead.
Hands clenched into fists, I turn away from the window and head back to the elevator, jaw clenched to keep from crying.
"Dante." Vito calls.
I don't reply. He gave orders that killed my mother.
"Dante." He calls again, this time more sternly.
I still don't reply, jamming my finger into the elevator button, hoping to get as far away from this place as possible. Vito doesn't follow me into the elevator, but he's there when the doors open on the upper floor. He stands with his arms crossed, nothing but pity shadowing his eyes.
I hate being pitied.
His look ignites my anger, bringing back a fraction of the heat I felt in the back of his Suburban. The words come out as a growl, my voice barely recognizable when I speak. "You killed my mother."
"You're angry," Vito says calmly, hands up as if he's surrendering. Confidently, he takes a step in my direction. "That's normal. A young man your age having lost the only family he has left—hell, I'd be angry too. In fact, I am angry. Your mother was one of my best."
