Chapter 8 - THEY TOOK MATTEO
Dante became a different man.
Not louder.
Not wilder.
Colder.
That was worse.
Within twenty minutes, his estate turned into a command center.
Phones ringing.
Men rushing through halls.
Security footage covering six screens.
I stood beside Rosa.
She held a rosary so tightly her knuckles were white.
Dante watched footage of Matteo’s SUV being boxed in by two vans.
His driver fought.
His guard fired.
Smoke.
Confusion.
Then Matteo disappeared.
“They knew the route,” Dante said.
One of his men nodded.
“Yes.”
“Only six people knew the route.”
Silence.
Dante looked around the room.
Every man suddenly seemed afraid.
“There’s a traitor.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone looked at me.
Dante grabbed it.
“No.”
I snatched it back.
“It’s about Matteo.”
“Elena.”
“If they wanted you, they’d call you.”
That stopped him.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Michael’s voice whispered, “Don’t hang up.”
My blood went cold.
“Where is Matteo?”
“I don’t have him.”
“Then you have three seconds to become useful.”
“Elena, Caruso wants the bank records.”
Dante motioned for the call to be traced.
“I don’t care what he wants.”
“He’ll trade the boy.”
“Where?”
“Old St. Vincent freight terminal.”
Dante shook his head sharply.
Trap.
I knew.
“What time?”
“Midnight.”
Michael breathed heavily.
“And Elena?”
“What?”
“He wants you there.”
Of course he did.
Dante mouthed, No.
I turned away from him.
“Why?”
“Because the account is locked to your identity.”
“What account?”
“The twelve million.”
“It still exists?”
“It’s worth almost forty now.”
My head snapped toward Dante.
Forty million dollars.
Michael continued.
“Caruso needs your biometric authorization.”
“How would he even know—”
“Your father set it up.”
My father.
Still reaching into my life after twenty years.
“Bring the flash drive,” Michael said.
“And Matteo walks?”
“Yes.”
Dante grabbed the phone.
“If my son has one scratch—”
Caruso’s voice replaced Michael’s.
Smooth.
Older.
Amused.
“Dante.”
The room went silent.
Dante’s face became stone.
“Let me hear my son.”
A pause.
Then Matteo cried through the speaker.
“Papa?”
Dante closed his eyes for half a second.
“I’m here, buddy.”
“I want to go home.”
“You will.”
“They said Elena has to come.”
Dante looked at me.
I couldn’t breathe.
“I’m coming,” I said.
Dante’s head snapped toward me.
“No.”
Matteo sniffled.
“Elena?”
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
“You’re coming?”
“Yes.”
Dante grabbed my arm.
I pulled free.
“I’m coming.”
Caruso returned.
“Midnight. Elena. The drive. No police.”
The call ended.
Dante threw my phone against the wall.
It shattered.
“What the hell?”
“You are not going.”
“He has Matteo.”
“He wants you.”
“He wants the money.”
“He wants both.”
“So we give him one and take back the other.”
Dante stared at me.
“This isn’t a waitress dealing with an angry customer.”
“I know exactly what it is.”
“No, you don’t.”
“My ex sold me to these people. My father buried me inside their war before I could spell my own name. Your son was kidnapped because I saved him.”
“That is not your fault.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
I stepped closer.
“But I’m ending it.”
His eyes burned.
“I won’t risk you.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Wrong question.
Because the answer was suddenly standing between us.
Dante looked away first.
I whispered, “Why?”
He faced me again.
And for once, Dante Moretti had no command.
No threat.
No cold answer.
Just truth.
“Because somewhere between that restaurant and this morning, you stopped being someone I was protecting because I owed her.”
My pulse stumbled.
“What am I now?”
His jaw tightened.
“Someone I can’t afford to lose.”
Before I could answer, one of his guards entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found the leak.”
He turned a tablet around.
Security footage showed a man sending Matteo’s route to an outside number.
Dante stared at the screen.
Then at the man standing three feet behind him.
His most trusted lieutenant.
Marco.
May you like
Marco slowly reached inside his jacket.
And pulled a gun.
