He looked down at the key in his hand, confused. "What?"
"It connects to the original tunnels beneath the estate,” Maria said.
Lark blinked at Maria. "There are tunnels under the compound?”
Maria nodded. "They were built during Prohibition."
Dante's pulse quickened. "Where do they lead?" he asked.
"To the river,” Maria said. Hope exploded inside him because it was possible for them to escape this hell they were both prisoners of.
The bedroom door burst open, and Marco rushed inside with his rifle raised. "There you are!" Everyone froze as Marco looked between Dante, Lark, and the packed backpack sitting beside the bed. Dante watched as Marco’s expression hardened.
"Oh.” He slowly closed the door behind him. "So that's what this is." Dante instinctively moved in front of Lark, and Marco sighed. "I was hoping I was wrong."
"You don't want to do this,” Dante warned.
Marco laughed humorlessly. "Funny.” He adjusted his grip on the rifle. "I was about to say the same thing."
Lark clutched Dante's arm. "Dante.”
"It's okay,” he lied. It wasn't okay because Marco wasn't just another guard. He'd trained beside Dante for years, and they knew each other's habits, weaknesses, and how the other fought.
"This isn't about her," Dante said quietly.
Marco shook his head. "It stopped being about her the second you chose her over the family."
"There is no family,” Dante spat.
"There was, and you betrayed Mr. Santos for that slut,” Marco shouted. His jaw tightened. "We all made choices,” he said.
"You chose Santos,” Dante said.
"I chose surviving,” Marco spat.
"So am I,” Dante insisted.
Marco looked past him at Lark. "You know he'll never stop hunting you."
"I know,” Lark whispered.
"He'll burn down Chicago to find you,” Marco warned. Dante hated the fear that he saw on Lark’s face.
"I know,” she breathed.
"You'll never be safe,” Marco said.
Dante smiled for the first time all night because that wasn’t decided yet. He could keep her safe. He’d die trying. "Maybe not,” he said, looking down at Lark. "But she'll be free."
Something changed in Marco's expression—something that looked a lot like regret. "You really love her."
Dante didn't hesitate. "Yes." The word echoed through the bedroom, and Lark's breath caught sharply behind him. There was no taking it back now, not that he wanted to. He loved her—completely and hopelessly. Enough to die for her.
Marco closed his eyes for a brief second, then lowered his rifle. "Go."
Dante stared at him, not sure if he should trust Marco or not. "What?"
"I didn't see anything,” Marco said.
