"Marco—" Dante started.
"Shut up.” Marco rubbed a tired hand across his face. "I joined Santos because I needed money for my mother's cancer treatments." His voice was hollow. "She died anyway." Silence settled over the room. "I've spent five years telling myself I wasn't one of the bad guys." He laughed bitterly. "Turns out I was just another coward." He looked directly at Lark. "Your mother once gave my little sister a birthday present when nobody else remembered."
Lark's eyes widened. "My mother?"
Marco nodded. "She deserved better than what your father did to her." He stepped aside from the doorway. "You both deserve better." Dante couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Go,” Marco shouted.
Another explosion rocked the mansion, and Marco looked toward the hallway. "I'll tell Santos you escaped through the balcony."
"He’ll kill you," Dante said.
Marco shrugged. "Maybe." Then he smiled faintly. "But maybe this is the first decent thing I've done in years, so it’s worth it."
Dante gripped his shoulder. "Thank you."
Marco nodded. "Find your sister."
The words hit Dante like a freight train. "I intend to." He turned to Lark. "Grab the backpack."
She did, and Maria pulled her in for a hug. "Your mother would be proud of you."
Tears streamed down Lark's face as she hugged the older woman. "Come with us." Maria smiled sadly. "My place is here."
"No—" Lark insisted.
"If I disappear tonight, Rafael will know someone helped you,” she said, cupping Lark's face gently. "I can still protect you by staying."
Lark nodded through her tears. "I'll come back for you."
Maria kissed her forehead. "I know."
Dante took Lark's hand and, for the first time, he wasn’t her jailer or her guard—he was just the man who loved her. He squeezed gently. "Ready?" She looked at him as fear filled her beautiful eyes. But beneath it, he saw hope. It was the kind neither of them had felt in years.
She nodded. “I’m ready,” she said. “Take me home.”
He smiled. "I don't have one."
She squeezed his hand tighter. "Then let's go find one—together." They slipped into the hidden passage concealed behind the wine cellar, while above them the Santos empire burned and, somewhere inside the chaos, another predator was moving through the mansion.
The tunnel smelled of damp earth, rust, and decades of neglect. Dante kept one hand wrapped tightly around Lark's as they hurried through the narrow passage, his pistol drawn in his other hand. The beam from the small flashlight attached to the barrel cut through the darkness, revealing old brick walls slick with moisture. Somewhere above them, muffled explosions continued to shake the estate. The attack hadn't stopped. If anything, it was getting worse. For the first time in years, Rafael Santos wasn't in complete control.
Behind them, the heavy steel door groaned shut, but Dante didn't slow. "We need to keep moving."
Lark stumbled over an uneven section of the floor before catching herself. "I am moving."
"Faster,” he barked.
She shot him an irritated look. "I can't see a damn thing." He immediately regretted snapping at her. She'd spent her entire life trapped inside that mansion, only to find herself running through a century-old tunnel with gunfire exploding overhead.
"I'm sorry,” he whispered.
"What?" she asked.
"I said that I’m sorry,” Dante repeated. The words felt foreign. "I shouldn't have barked at you."
A tiny smile tugged at her lips despite everything. "I think that's the first apology I've ever gotten from you."
"It probably is,” he agreed.
