Chapter 10 - A BOY IS NOT A MESSAGE
Salvatore survived the gunshot.
Barely.
The bullet missed his heart by less than an inch.
Dante did not visit him after surgery.
He sat beside Leo instead.
The boy had stopped talking.
That scared Dante more than anything.
They were in a private apartment above Luca’s restaurant.
No windows facing the street.
Four guards downstairs.
Two upstairs.
Marco slept on a couch with his arm in a sling.
Dante sat at the kitchen table across from his son.
“You hungry?”
Leo shook his head.
“Pizza?”
Nothing.
“Ice cream?”
Nothing.
Dante leaned forward.
“Leo.”
The boy finally looked up.
“Was Mom scared?”
Dante felt the question hit.
“At the end?”
“Yes.”
He could have lied.
He almost did.
Then he remembered Elena.
“I think she was.”
Leo stared at his hands.
“Did she know she was going to die?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she ask for me?”
Dante swallowed.
“I’m sure she thought about you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Dante looked down.
“No. I don’t know if she asked for you.”
Leo nodded.
Tears slid down his face.
“I hate Grandpa.”
Dante’s chest tightened.
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
“I hate Javier.”
“I know.”
“I hate you too.”
Marco opened his eyes across the room.
Dante didn’t move.
“Okay.”
Leo looked surprised.
“You’re not mad?”
“No.”
“You keep saying you protect me.”
Dante nodded.
“But people keep trying to kill us.”
There was no answer to that.
Leo wiped his face.
“Mom found out bad things.”
“Yes.”
“You did bad things too.”
Dante looked at him.
The boy had seen the ledger.
Signatures.
Payments.
Names.
Not everything was Victor’s.
Not everything was Salvatore’s.
Dante had built his own criminal empire.
Gambling.
Extortion.
Theft.
Violence.
He had always drawn lines.
No drugs.
No children.
No trafficking.
As though having rules made him a good man.
Leo asked, “Did you hurt people?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante had given orders that ruined men.
He had broken jaws.
Burned businesses.
Threatened families.
He had told himself it was business.
Now his eight-year-old son was asking why.
“I wanted power.”
Leo frowned.
“Why?”
“So nobody could hurt us.”
Leo looked around the guarded apartment.
“That worked great.”
Marco covered his mouth.
Dante almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Victor Hale.
“You have something I want.”
Dante stood.
“You have a short life expectancy.”
Victor laughed.
“Still dramatic.”
“Where’s Javier?”
“Running.”
“From you?”
“From everybody.”
Victor paused.
“He has copies.”
Dante went still.
“Copies of what?”
“Elena’s evidence.”
“How?”
“Your wife trusted the wrong person.”
“You?”
“No.”
Victor’s voice sharpened.
“Javier stole them before the crash. He has enough to put me away, enough to put Salvatore away, and enough to put you away.”
Dante looked at Leo.
“What do you want?”
“Javier dead.”
“No.”
Victor laughed.
“That answer surprised me.”
“Good.”
“Then your empire disappears.”
Dante looked at his son.
Maybe that was no longer a threat.
Victor continued.
“By midnight, every cop in the state could have those files.”
Dante said, “Send them.”
Silence.
Victor stopped laughing.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’ll go to prison.”
“Maybe.”
“You’ll lose everything.”
Dante looked at Leo.
“No.”
He finally understood.
“I’ll lose the part I should’ve lost years ago.”
Victor’s voice turned cold.
“You’ve gotten sentimental.”
“No.”
Dante hung up.
Marco stared at him.
“You serious?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
Dante picked up Elena’s recorder.
“For the first time in my life?”
He looked at his son.
“The right thing.”
Then someone knocked three times on the apartment door.
A guard called from outside.
“Boss?”
Dante drew his gun.
“What?”
“We’ve got somebody here.”
“Who?”
The door opened.
Javier stumbled inside.
Covered in blood.
May you like
Holding his hands above his head.
And behind him were two police detectives.
