I didn’t let her finish.Because if she begged me, if she said my name like she needed me, there was a chance the cold would crack.And if it cracked, I might not be able to do what my mind had already decided was necessary.
I stepped back.
Nita’s mouth opened, fury flaring through her grief.“You can’t just leave.”
“I can,” I cut in.“And I am.”
Char’s breath hitched.Tears spilled, sliding down her cheeks.“Dante—please.”
I stared at her for one last second.
Memorized her face.
The curve of her mouth.The bruises that would fade but never fully disappear inside her.The strength it took for her to stand here, recovering, grieving a man she barely knew but who’d nearly died trying to protect her.
Then I turned away.
My boots crunched gravel as I walked.I didn’t run.I marched steady.
I didn’t look back.
Behind me, I heard Nita say my name again, sharper now, like an order.
“Dante!”
I kept walking.
“Dante Verdone, you saved my sister.Don’t forget the good inside you.I owe you for saving her.”
I kept marching on.Because if I turned around, I might still be human.
And I couldn’t afford that.
Not anymore.
Not with Lamonte in the ground and a monster still breathing somewhere in my city.
The wind bit at my face as I reached the edge of the crowd, moving past uniforms and condolences, past folded flags and grieving families.
I felt every eye on me.Or maybe that was my imagination.It didn’t matter.All that mattered was the vow, steady as a pulse in my chest and the way I was determined to fix this for good.
He would never be a problem again.And neither Nita nor Char would be dragged into what came next.
I slid into my car.Closed the door.
And for the first time since the night of the apartment, I let myself sit in the silence and feel nothing at all.
Stone cold.
Just like the grave I had left behind.
PartTwo
Loco’s Last
Once a door closes, it shouldn’t be reopened.
That was Dante “Loco” Verdone’s motto.He never looked back, only ahead.
