That stops me cold.
My pulse stutters. “What does that mean?”
“It means I knew something about that night smelled wrong.” His voice is clipped now, furious in a way I’ve only heard once or twice before. “But I never had proof. But if he used Conti’s name, then it makes sense.”
“He still trusts him,” I whisper.
“Then Conti is a bigger fool than I thought.”
Some instinct in me flares hot and protective. “Don’t.”
“You still defend him.”
“I’m not defending him.” I press a hand to my stomach. “I’m just… trying to think.”
The room feels too open and every shadow now looks like somewhere a man could hide.
“Listen to me,” Dante says. “Are you alone?”
I glance toward the guard by the entry, who is pretending notto watch me while absolutely watching me. “No. There are guards here.”
“Conti’s?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust them?”
The question lodges under my ribs.
“I don’t know.”
“Then assume you shouldn’t.”
Cold slides through me.
I lower my voice. “What do I do?”
“First, you stay where you are.”
I almost laugh at the irony. “That won’t be hard.”
“I’m serious, Birdie.”
“I know.”
His exhale is rough. “Second, you do not tell anyone but Conti what you just told me. Not the guards. Not the staff. No one.”
“I already left Lorenzo a voicemail.”
“Good.”
Good. That word shouldn’t comfort me, but it does.
“Third,” Dante says, “if Cesaro was part of getting you out the first time, then he may already know you remember. If he knows, he’ll move fast.”
My entire body goes still. I hadn’t let myself think that far.
“He can’t get in here,” I say, but the words sound weak even to me.
