A precious one. A secret that so few people know. My hands clench into fists as I voice the words, keeping them low.
“Matteo Corvo is holding my daughter hostage.”
Rocco’s face goes slack. Vito only stares at me, his eyes unwavering. And then he nods, slowly, as if in understanding. “I see. Did - did Frank know?”
A hint of pain, at the brother he loved and lost. I nod. “I told him… right before.”
There is more than enough pain to go around.
Rocco spins his head between us, gaping in shock. “I…what? You have a daughter?”
For more than an hour, I sit. And I talk. And my two closest men listen carefully, silent and watchful aside from the few questions they put to me.
And when I am done sharing, Vito leans forward. He scans the blueprint, lips tightening.
“You see now.” It’s not a question, those quiet words. He offers me a nod.
Rocco frowns, leaning forward to look too. “But I don’t understand. Why are we going after Asante, if Alessia is withMatteo? Not that I don’t understand,amico, but surely she should be the priority.”
My throat tightens at the reminder. “Matteo will not let me close to the house.”
I tried. Several times in those first days, desperate, only to be turned away. And then the command came, to leave altogether and go home to Vegas.
Obey, or they will both face the consequences.
And here I am. Working in the shadows, working with scraps of information to try and pull a plan together.
An escape, an attack – for us to bereadyfor the moment we can get her out.
Rocco stirs. “We?”
I eye him, a hint of irritation working in. “Yes,we. Which is why I’m sending you back to campus,amico.”
He doesn’t bother to hide the frustration that flashes across his face. “Dante—,”
“Please,” I say quietly. Appealing to him. Not as my direct report, but as my friend. “You know what is at stake now, Rocco. You know what Gio is trying to do, andwhy. I need you to work with him.”
To build an army – a force big enough to combat the hundreds of men Salvatore Asante has under his command.
“Sanctimonious bastard,” Rocco mutters. But he sighs. “The shit I do for you. You’d better make me godfather when you get her back, Dante.”
My heart clenches at the joke. Rocco’s humor trails away at the expression on my face. “I’ll leave tonight. And… I’ll work with Fusco. With all of them. Try to, at least.”
He grasps my shoulder tightly before he leaves with a nod of farewell to Vito.
“You should have told us sooner,” Vito says softly as the door closes. “What a weight you have been carrying,nipote.”
The room blurs. “It is not my weight alone.”
And yet the loneliness threatens to choke me. Night after night of planning, of seizing last-minute opportunities, careful moments for veiled, hissed conversations on disposable phones.
We are watched. All of us.
All the damn time.
And I am tired. So, so tired.
“Thirty days,” I murmur. “It’s a lifetime, Vito.”
