"A bomb." His voice is flat. Controlled. "Planted in a warehouse we were checking. Lorenzo went in first. I was—" He stops. Swallows. "I was checking the perimeter. The explosion?—"
He doesn't finish.
He doesn't need to.
"How did you get separated?"
Dante finally turns. His face is pale beneath the scratches. His eyes are dark. Empty.
"That's how we always worked." He shrugs. One shoulder. Casual. "Lorenzo takes point. I cover the exits. Standard protocol."
I study him.
Something's wrong.
Not just grief. Not just shock. Something else.
"Is there something you want to tell me?"
Dante goes still.
"Why do you say that?"
I sigh.
The sound fills the space between us. Heavy. Tired.
I move closer. Close enough to touch him. Close enough to see the tension in his jaw. The way his hands curl at his sides.
"I know something terrible is happening." I keep my voice soft. Careful. "And it's not just Lorenzo's death."
Dante's eyes meet mine.
I see it then. The wall. The barrier he's built between us.
"You've been strange." I reach up. Touch his cheek. The scratches are rough beneath my fingers. "Since you met with Alejandro. Since Denver. Something changed and you won't tell me what."
Dante closes his eyes.
His hand comes up. Covers mine. Presses my palm against his face.
"I'm not okay." His voice cracks. Splinters. "How can I be okay when this shit happens?"
He pulls away. Rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"Lorenzo is dead." The words come out rough. Broken. "My brother is dead. Sophia is pregnant. And I couldn't—I couldn't save him."
I watch him.
My chest aches.
But something doesn't fit.
He was like this before. Before the explosion. Before Lorenzo died. He was distant. Closed off.
I should push.
I should demand answers.
