I could call Lorenzo. Tell him about the threat. But Alejandro specifically said come alone. If I involve the family, if they move to protect Vittoria and Aria, Alejandro will know. He'll have people watching. He'll give the order.
Marina's parents will die first. They're the most vulnerable. No security. No awareness of the danger.
I've run every scenario. Every possible play. And they all end the same way—with someone dead unless I walk into that warehouse alone.
This is probably the worst decision I'll ever make.
But I can't risk it. I can't gamble with their lives. Not her parents. Not Vittoria, who's been like a sister to me for twenty years. Not Aria, who treated me like her own son when I had nothing.
I don't have any other way to do this.
The clock on the wall reads 11:47 p.m.
I push off from the doorframe and walk toward the couch. Marina looks up as I approach, her expression shifting from distracted to alert. She mutes the television.
"Hey." She tilts her head. "You've been hovering for the past hour. Want to tell me what's actually going on?"
I sit down next to her. Close. Our knees touch. I take her hands in mine—both of them, even the right one that still trembles sometimes. She lets me.
"I need you to listen to me carefully," I say.
Her fingers tighten around mine. "Dante. You're scaring me."
"I know." I hold her gaze. "Shortly, I'm going to leave."
Marina blinks. "Leave? Leave where? We're supposed to stay here. Lorenzo said?—"
"Marina." I squeeze her hands. "I need you to trust me. And I need you to understand what I'm about to tell you."
She goes still. That sharp intelligence I love so much is working overtime, reading my face, my posture, the tension in my grip. "What happened?"
"Someone has targeted your parents."
The color drains from her face. "What?"
"And Vittoria. And Aria." I keep my voice steady even as her breathing accelerates. "They sent me photos. Surveillance photos. All four of them, going about their day. Unaware."
"No." Marina tries to pull her hands back. I don't let her. "No, no, no?—"
"They won't harm them if I get there."
"Get where?" Her voice pitches higher. Panic edges into her words. "Dante, what are you talking about? Who sent the photos? Where are you going?"
"Marina." I release one of her hands and cup her face instead, forcing her to look at me. "Right now, I need you to stay calm. I'll explain the plan. Okay?"
She's shaking. Her whole body trembles against mine. But she meets my eyes, and I watch her fight for control. Watch her shove down the terror clawing at her throat.
"Okay," she whispers. "Okay. Tell me."
I nod.
Marina
Dante moves through the penthouse.
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching him. My hands won't stop shaking. I've pressed them between my knees to hide it, but the tremor runs deeper than my fingers. It's in my chest. My stomach. The base of my skull where a headache is building.
He pulls on a dark jacket. Checks his phone. Slides a knife into his boot—I didn't even know he had a knife. Where did he get a knife?
