“He’s obsessed.He wants my husband.”
Marco pushed the chair back and stood.“He’s dangerous.The Gallo name has teeth.Especially around here.”
“I don’t want to be the pawn.I want to be the woman who helps the king checkmate.”
Marco’s laugh was dry.“You’re… you’re not the kind of woman who sits pretty and waits.”
“Exactly.”
I left him and about an hour later, Enrico called both of us into his study.
“Dante Gallo,” Marco said.“We have a concrete name.”
Enrico’s fingers curled around the back of the chair.“Where?”
“Enzo gave it,” Marco said.“He was shaky, but he gave us Dante’s name.”
“Who is us?”
I didn’t want to look him in the eye.“I knew he would give me answers.”
His jaw went hard, and when he finally looked at me, his whole face changed into a hundred taut ropes of resolve.“You were taken,” he said.
“Yes.I interrogated him.”
“For what?”The question was clipped, but there was no accusation in it; only concern sheathed in command.
“To find a name,” I said.“To find the name of the man.”
Enrico’s features softened into a thing that was almost gratitude and almost fear.“Dante.”He repeated the name like he could use it to track a scent.His eyes darkened onto me in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with ownership and oath and the first tremor of fear being sharpened into vengeance.“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“You told me earlier you wanted me to be honest.”
“Yes.”A pause.“And that honesty nearly got you killed.I need you safe.”
I met his gaze.“I refused to be locked away.”
“You didn’t have to go question them.”
“I needed to know.”
He was quiet long enough for dust to rearrange itself.When he finally spoke, his voice was softer.“You’re brave but also stubborn.”
“Both are useful.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, a small concession to the weight he carried.The house around us hummed with cooks, guards, and other staff.“How much did he tell you?”
“Only the name.And that Dante doesn’t want me dead.He wanted the spectacle.”
Enrico let out a breath.“Of course he does.Showmen always want an audience.”
There was a long, dangerous silence that folded itself around us.
“Tomorrow,” he said finally, “I’m going to Via del Leone.With you or without you.”
I set my jaw and answered with the thing I’d grown better at in this house: plain, fierce truth.“With you.”
“There are things you should know,” he said.“There are lines I won’t cross.I need you to know which is which.”
