"It's about being the kind of man you taught me to be," I say finally. "The kind who protects people who can't protect themselves. The kind who does what's right even when it's hard."
"And you think turning against your family is right?"
"I think letting a room full of men vote on whether to sacrifice an innocent girl is wrong."
Vito nods slowly, like I've just confirmed something he suspected.
"Go get Sofia," he says. "Bring her back tomorrow at eight. The summit will be held here, in the main conference room. Details will be provided in the morning."
As I turn to leave, he calls after me.
"Dante."
I stop, but I don't turn around.
"Don't do anything stupid. For both your sakes."
The warning is clear. Step out of line, and we're both dead.
But as I walk out of that conference room, one thought keeps echoing in my mind: some things are worth dying for.
And Sofia Gallo might just be one of them.
CHAPTER 21
Sofia
The car finally stops,and I carefully lift my head just enough to peek out the window. My stomach drops.
We're in an underground parking garage, surrounded by concrete walls and security cameras. There are guards at every entrance, and I can see the outline of metal detectors near what looks like the only way out. The building above us is a fortress—there's absolutely zero chance I'm getting anywhere close to whatever meeting is happening upstairs.
I sink back down behind the seat, fury burning in my chest. While I'm trapped down here like some kind of stowaway, a group of men are sitting in a room somewhere above me, deciding my future. Talking about me like I'm a piece of property to be traded or sold. Making choices about my life without me having any voice in it whatsoever.
The unfairness of it makes me want to scream.
I clench my jaw and try to stay as still as possible, listening to the sounds of the garage around me. Footsteps echoing off concrete, car doors slamming, the distant hum of ventilation systems. Normal sounds that feel anything but normal whenyou're hiding in the backseat of your captor's car, waiting to learn your own fate.
Minutes pass. Then an hour. Then longer.
My legs are cramping from being curled up in this position for so long, and I'm starting to wonder if Dante is ever coming back when I finally hear his footsteps approaching the car. The driver's door opens, and the car dips as he gets in.
But something's different. I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves, a kind of barely contained fury that makes the air in the car feel electric.
For a moment, he just sits there in silence. Then, without warning, his fist connects with the steering wheel with a loud thud.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath.
I hold my breath, not daring to move. I've never heard Dante sound like this—raw, angry, almost broken. Whatever happened in that meeting, it wasn't good.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and oppressive. I think I hear something that sounds almost like... crying? But it's so quiet, so controlled, that I can't be sure. Just the faintest sound of someone trying very hard not to fall apart.
My chest tightens with an emotion I don't want to name. Even though he's the one keeping me prisoner, even though he just came from a meeting where they were probably deciding to hand me over to the Costellos, there's something about hearing him like this that makes my heart ache.
Then the engine starts, and we're moving again.
I can tell from the turns and the feeling of acceleration that we're heading back toward the safehouse. Back to my cage. Back to pretending that I'm just going to sit quietly while other people determine whether I live or die.
As we drive through the city streets, I close my eyes and try to process what I've learned. The meeting was clearly about me—Dante's reaction proves that much. And whatever decision was made, it's bad enough to break down a man who I've never seen show anything but controlled competence.
