Chapter 5 - THE OLD LION
Salvatore Romano still ate breakfast at the same restaurant every morning.
Same corner booth.
Same black coffee.
Same two eggs.
Same newspaper folded beside his plate.
Seventy-one years old.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
No body armor.
No visible fear.
Dante walked through the restaurant at 8:13 the next morning.
Every customer left before he reached the booth.
Salvatore buttered his toast.
“Your people frightened the waitress.”
Dante sat across from him.
“You sent men into my home.”
Salvatore took a bite.
“That’s a serious accusation.”
“Nico Parisi died in my hallway.”
Salvatore stopped chewing.
For the first time, something moved behind his eyes.
“Nico’s dead?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I knew him forty years.”
“He tried to kill your grandson.”
Salvatore set down the toast.
“No.”
Dante placed the photograph on the table.
Salvatore looked at it.
Then at Dante.
“Where did you get this?”
“Elena.”
Salvatore leaned back.
“So you found the recorder.”
Dante felt something crack inside him.
Not surprise.
Something worse.
Confirmation.
“You knew.”
Salvatore sighed.
“She was a good woman.”
“Don’t.”
“I loved her.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Dante—”
“Did you kill my wife?”
The restaurant was silent.
Salvatore looked toward the window.
“No.”
Dante pulled his gun beneath the table.
Salvatore noticed.
He didn’t flinch.
“I ordered Javier to recover the ledgers,” Salvatore said.
“How?”
“However he needed.”
Dante stared.
Salvatore continued.
“I told him Elena was family. I told him not to hurt her.”
“But?”
“He panicked.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“He cut her brakes?”
Salvatore’s eyes returned to him.
“I never gave that order.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“I don’t care what you believe. I’m telling you what happened.”
“Then why attack my house?”
“I didn’t.”
“Nico said you sent him.”
“Nico hasn’t worked for me in eighteen months.”
Dante hesitated.
Salvatore leaned forward.
“You’re angry. That makes you stupid.”
“You have five seconds—”
“Ask yourself who benefits if you kill me today.”
Dante said nothing.
“Javier.”
Salvatore continued.
“He tells you I killed Elena. He sends my old soldiers into your home. One conveniently lives long enough to blame me. Now you come here with a gun.”
“You expect me to believe Javier organized all this alone?”
“No.”
“Who’s helping him?”
Salvatore’s expression darkened.
“That is the question you should’ve asked before walking in.”
Dante placed the recorder on the table.
Salvatore stared at it.
A decoy.
The real recorder was with Marco.
Dante watched his father’s eyes.
“You want this badly.”
Salvatore didn’t answer.
“What’s on those ledgers?”
“Things you don’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
Salvatore leaned back.
“Your signature.”
Dante went still.
“Bull.”
“Every company. Every shipment. Every payment.”
“I never approved drugs.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I never approved people.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You forged my name?”
Salvatore’s voice softened.
“I protected the family.”
“You buried me.”
“I built you.”
Dante stood.
Salvatore remained seated.
“Sit down.”
Dante laughed once.
“You don’t give me orders anymore.”
“Sit down, because if Javier finds those ledgers before you do, you won’t live long enough to hate me.”
Dante’s phone rang.
Marco.
Dante answered.
“What?”
For two seconds, he heard only breathing.
Then Marco said, “Leo’s gone.”
Everything inside Dante stopped.
“What did you say?”
“The safe house was hit ten minutes ago.”
Dante headed for the door.
“Marco—”
“There’s more.”
Dante stopped.
May you like
Marco’s voice broke.
“They left Javier’s phone.”
