What’s coming next from K.L.? You won’t want to miss Blood Vows (Crimson Empire Mafia Book 2) coming this fall!
Dante
Blood never washed off. Dante Vitale knew that the moment he stepped into the abandoned warehouse on the south docks. The air still carried the copper bite of it, sharp and unforgiving, clinging to the back of his throat like a memory that refused to fade. Three bodies lay cooling on the concrete, with one message carved deep into the bodies—CAMORRA.
Dante crouched beside the nearest corpse, fingers brushing the edge of the wound with practiced precision. He noticed that the cuts were clean, almost surgical-looking. These murders weren’t done in a sloppy rage. They were calculated executions. Someone wanted this scene to be found, and they wanted it traced back to Luca Camorra—of that, he was sure. And that meant one thing—it wasn’t their work.
“It’s too neat,” Dante muttered, mostly to himself. Behind him, boots crunched against broken glass as Luca’s presence filled the space before he spoke. He was always quiet, controlled, and lethal as a drawn blade.
“They want a war,” Luca spat.
Dante stood, rolling his shoulders once as he turned. “Or they want us blamed for starting a war.”
Luca’s dark gaze flicked to the bodies, then to the carved insignia. “The Romanos are already calling for blood.” Dante’s jaw tightened. A peace deal had been signed, and a marriage was sealed in blood and vows. As the head of the Camorra family, Luca brokered a deal to marry Isabella Romano. Their marriage was supposed to end the war, but the dead bodies on the floor were proof that it hadn’t. But truces were fragile things, and someone was pressing hard on the cracks of it, waiting for it to break.
“Any leads?” Dante asked. Luca reached into his coat and tossed a folded dossier onto a nearby crate. It slid to a stop at Dante’s feet.
“One name keeps surfacing,” Luca said. Dante picked it up, flipping it open to find Elena Romano’s name and photo. The name meant nothing to him. He’d seen her once. She seemed like a quiet, watchful person. Elena liked to be in the background during negotiations—still and observant.
“She’s family,” Dante said flatly. She was Isabella’s family, to be exact, which now made Elena Luca’s family through marriage.
“Family doesn’t mean that she’s innocent,” Luca replied. “Not in our world.”
Dante studied the photograph clipped inside the folder. Elena’s dark eyes and soft pouty lips stood out to him. There was no fear in her gaze—just calculation. If he had to place a bet, he’d put money on her being dangerous.
“What’s the connection?” Dante asked.
“Her father,” Luca said. “He’s been dead for two years now. His financial records show unexplained transfers tied to shell companies that we can’t trace.”
Dante snapped the folder shut. “You think she inherited access to his estate?”
“I think someone has,” Luca said. “And she’s the only loose thread we have.” Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken understanding.
“What do you want done?” Dante asked, already knowing the answer.
Luca’s eyes locked onto his. “Take her into custody.”
Dante didn’t flinch. “Interrogate her?”
“Protect her,” Luca corrected. “Until we know who’s pulling the strings.” Protection in their world came with chains. She’d be held by the Camorra family, and that would be as bad as holding her for interrogation.
“And if she runs?” Dante asked.
“She won’t,” Luca said calmly. “You won’t give her the chance.” Dante exhaled slowly. Orders were orders. Loyalty wasn’t a choice—it was survival.
“When do you want this done?” he asked, not questioning his orders.
“Tonight,” Luca said. “The sooner we find her, the sooner we can get some answers about who did this. I won’t allow my family to take the blame for their murders,” he said, nodding to the bodies on the ground. Dante knew that Luca was right—they needed to get to the bottom of who was murdering men and leaving them with the family’s name carved into their flesh. He hated that he was going to have to spend his Saturday night tracking down a mafia princess who’d probably be happy to see him dead, but he had his orders, and Dante never disobeyed an order given by Luca Camorra. It was, after all, how he had become his second in command.
Luca had given Dante until midnight to bring Elena in. After that, he said that he’d send out more of his men, and Dante knew that wouldn’t end well for any of them. If he was correct, Elena had information that would be useful to the Camorra family, and Dante planned on finding out what that was.
Elena Romano’s apartment was too quiet. Dante sensed it the moment he stepped inside—his weapon drawn and his instincts razor-sharp. The place was immaculate. It looked as though it had been professionally staged. There were no personal photos and no clutter. It was like the person who lived there had learned not to leave pieces of herself behind.
A sound came from the bedroom, and Dante moved without hesitation, crossing the space in three silent strides and pushing the door open. She stood by the window, phone in her hand, shoulders stiff. She turned and froze, her dark eyes widened—not in fear, but recognition as calculation flared there, sharp and fast.
“You’re with the Camorra family,” she said quietly.
Dante lowered the gun just enough to speak. “Get your coat.”
