LOGIN**DANTE**
Lucia's bakery opened at six AM. I made sure Alessandro was awake at five. Dark circles under his eyes, hands shaking as he tied his shoes.
"Coffee?" he asked quietly.
"No time. We're late already."
"You said six."
"I changed my mind. Move faster." I headed for the door. "And Alessandro? Lucia doesn't know about the marriage yet. I'm telling her today. With you there."
His face went pale but he followed me out.
The drive took twenty minutes. Making him walk yesterday had been excessive, but he'd questioned me in front of Tommy. I couldn't have that.
"Lucia knew my whole family. Watched my sisters grow up." I pulled up outside the bakery. "And you've been sending her money for years. Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
His jaw tightened. "I was trying to help."
"You were trying to ease your guilt. There's a difference."
The bakery smelled like bread and cinnamon. Lucia looked up when we entered and froze.
"Dante." Her voice was careful.
"This is Alessandro Santoro. I think you've been receiving payments from him." I kept my grip on his arm. "I'm marrying him. In three months. Strategic alliance between the families."
Lucia stared at me. "You're what?"
"Marrying him. Marco arranged it. Legal binding, permanent peace."
"You're marrying the son of the man who killed your family." She came around the counter, eyes blazing. "Your mother would be ashamed."
"My mother's dead. She doesn't get a vote." I released Alessandro's arm. "He's been sending you money for five years. He wasn't even there when it happened. His brother beat him unconscious when he tried to leave."
"So he's weak. That doesn't make him innocent."
"He's my problem now." I looked at Alessandro. "I wanted you to meet him before the wedding. You're the only family I have left."
Lucia studied Alessandro. "Why'd you send the money?"
"Because I couldn't fix what happened. But I could help with what came after." His voice was steady. "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't matter."
"You're right. It doesn't." She turned to me. "You trust him?"
"No. But I'm using him. There's a difference."
Alessandro flinched. Lucia noticed.
"He knows you're using him?"
"He knows everything. That I hate him, that this is a strategy, that the marriage means nothing." I smiled. "He agreed anyway. Didn't you, Alessandro?"
"Yes."
"The wedding's in three months. You're invited."
"The money you sent helped more people than you know," Lucia said to Alessandro. "I figured out who was sending it two years ago. Been watching you since then. You go to Dr. Elena for panic attacks. Your brother broke your ribs last year."
"How do you know all that?"
"Elena and I are friends." Lucia looked at me. "He's more broken than you think."
"I'm aware."
"I'll come to the wedding. Someone needs to make sure you don't kill each other." She caught my arm. "Your mother married into this life. She hated it. Don't become the thing she was trying to protect you from."
I pulled away. "Too late for that."
Outside, Alessandro leaned against the car. "That went well."
"She didn't shoot you." I unlocked the doors. "Get in. We're meeting Father Giuseppe next."
"I was almost a priest," Alessandro said as we drove.
That stopped me. "What?"
"Before Florence. I was studying theology. I thought I could escape the family by taking vows. My father sent Nico to bring me home."
I processed this. Alessandro had almost been a priest.
"Why'd you give it up?"
"My father said the family needed me more than God did. I tried to go back once, but Father Giuseppe told me I wasn't suited for it anymore. That I'd seen too much, done too much."
"Done too much? What did you do?"
He looked at me, something dark in his eyes. "What do you think? I'm a Santoro."
"Tell me."
"I've killed people. Three of them. My father made me pull the trigger to prove my loyalty." His hands shook. "I threw up after each one. But I did it because the alternative was Nico doing worse to me."
"And you paint the fire because of guilt."
"I paint it because it's the only thing I see when I close my eyes. Your family, my victims, everyone I couldn't save. It all burns together." He looked at me. "Guilt is the only thing keeping me human. Without it, I'd be just like Nico."
We pulled up outside the church. I sat there for a moment.
"The three people you killed. Did they deserve it?"
"Yes. They were criminals, traitors. But that doesn't make it right that I was the one who killed them."
Father Giuseppe was arranging flowers. He turned when we entered.
"Dante. I heard about the marriage." He studied Alessandro. "You're Vittorio's youngest. I heard your confession once. You told me you wanted to die."
Alessandro didn't deny it. "I still do sometimes."
"And you're marrying Dante anyway."
"I'm doing what my family requires."
Giuseppe looked at me. "You're marrying him for revenge?"
"I'm marrying him because Marco ordered it. The revenge is just a bonus."
"I'm doing the ceremony because backing out would start a war. But I'm not blessing this union. I can't bless something built on hate." Giuseppe's expression was sad. "Your family would've wanted you to be happy. Not just alive."
I left without answering. In the car, Alessandro spoke.
"Do you ever think about what they'd want? Your family?"
"Every day."
"And this is what they'd want? You destroying yourself to destroy me?"
I started the car. "They'd want justice. This is the closest I can get."
"Justice and revenge aren't the same thing."
"In my world, they are."
We drove back in silence. Marco was waiting.
"Vittorio collapsed this morning. He's in the hospital. Might not make it through the week."
Alessandro's phone rang. Nico's name on the screen.
"Answer it," I ordered. "Put it on speaker."
Nico's voice came through, urgent and angry. "Alessandro, get back here now. Father's dying and he's asking for you. If you're not here in an hour, I'm coming to get you myself."
I grabbed the phone. "He's not going anywhere without me."
"Who the hell is this?"
"Dante Moretti. Your brother's fiancé. If Vittorio wants to see him, we both come. Or neither of us do."
The line went silent. Then Nico laughed, cold and mean.
"Bring him then. But Dante? When our father dies, this alliance dies with him. And I'm coming for you first.”
ALESSANDROThe SUV didn’t stop for a long time.I drifted in and out, ribs screaming every time we hit a pothole, the masked man’s shoulder a hard, silent wall beside me. I tried to keep track of turns. Left, left, right, a long straightaway. After the fourth turn, the pain took whatever was left of my focus, and I stopped trying to memorize anything at all. It didn’t matter. Even if I remembered every street, every light, I doubted I’d survive trying to run from wherever we were headed.I didn’t ask where we were going. I didn’t have the strength to argue if he refused to answer, and something in the way he sat, still, watchful, unreadable even behind the mask, told me he would refuse.Time stopped meaning anything. I measured the drive in breaths instead of minutes, each one shallow, careful, my ribs protesting every small movement of the vehicle beneath us. At some point I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew, gravel crunched under the tires and the world had gone qu
THIRD PERSON’S POVThe gates of the Santoro estate slammed shut behind Nico’s SUV.He sat in the back seat, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists.Blood stained the sleeve of his expensive suit, but not his blood. His men’s.The drive back had been silent. No one dared speak.Only one vehicle had made it out of Hell’s Gate with him.The rest of his men were either dead, wounded, or scattered across the surrounding woods.Nico stared through the tinted window, his reflection staring back at him.Someone had walked into Hell’s Gate and had taken Alessandro.From under the noses of his guards. Nico’s nostrils flared.He had spent years building a reputation that made grown men tremble at the mention of his name.Yet tonight, someone had made him look like a fool.The SUV stopped in front of the mansion.Nico stepped out before anyone could open the car for him.The moment his shoes touched the ground, he turned toward the remaining guards.“Inside.” His voice was quiet. Too quiet
I managed to lift my head from his shoulder and saw one of the guards rushing toward us. He was trying to reach his weapon. But the masked man was faster.Before I could even process what was happening, he carried me into the tunnel. He turned quickly and pressed a button on the wall.With a heavy metallic clang, the tunnel door began to close.The guard rushed forward, desperately trying to reach us, before he could point his gun towards us, he was already too late.The door slammed shut right in his face. And I could hear him scream out in frustration. And I understood what that shout meant… … He’s a dead man. And just like that, we disappeared into the darkness. I couldn’t see a thing. He carried me through the dark narrow passage, his footsteps echoing against the walls.I didn’t know where we were going.I didn’t know who he was.All I knew was that I was leaving Hell’s Gate.And somehow, that terrified me almost as much as staying.We emerged into the open air on the far sid
DANTE“Gone?” The word echoed in my head. “What the hell does he mean by gone?”My blood boiled as panic clawed its way through my chest. Had we been too late?No. I refused to believe the worst. “Nico took him?” Marco continued with the interrogations. “Nico…” The man coughed, eyes glassy with pain and something like dark amusement. “Nico got here ten minutes before you did. Found the same empty chair.” He looked at me. “I’ve never seen him that angry. Someone walked into Hell’s Gate, took his brother right out from under him, and disappeared through the tunnel.”My blood ran cold.So Nico knew.He knew someone else had stolen Alessandro.And now both of us were hunting the same ghost.I stared down at the bloodstained ring in my hand.Alessandro was alive.But he was in the hands of a third player—someone bold enough to steal from Nico Santoro inside his own private hell.And that someone had just declared war on both our families without saying a single word.For the first time i
“What?” Marco asked. “We’ve had routine checkpoints for five days now,” Ray said over the phone, his voice calm but alert. “And yesterday and today, a man that matches the description you just gave me was seen twice.” Marco straightened slightly in his chair. “You’re certain it was him?” “As certain as I can be without pulling him out of the vehicle,” Ray replied. “Same build, same face, same cold expression. Tall guy, dark hair. Hard to miss. He was sitting in the back of a taxi both times.” Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Both times? You mean he passed two different checkpoints?” “Exactly,” Ray said. “First sighting was yesterday evening on the eastern bypass heading out of Manhattan. The second time was earlier today near the old industrial route by the docks.” Marco straightened. “You’re sure?” “Yes.” My pulse quickened. “Was he driving?” Marco asked. “No.” “Passenger?” “Yes.” “In what vehicle?” “A yellow city taxi.” Marco looked at me. Hope
** Dante **Tommy drove us straight to one of our safehouses—a quiet two-story building hidden between abandoned factories on the edge of the industrial district. Marco was already waiting when we arrived.The moment I stepped out of the car, my injured leg nearly gave out.Marco rushed forward.“Jesus Christ,” he said, grabbing my arm. “You look like you crawled out of a grave.”“Feels like I did.”Inside, we gathered around a large wooden table in the center of the room. Maps, phones, laptops, and scattered files covered the surface.Tommy poured me a glass of water while Marco stared at me with that calculating expression he always had when something serious was happening.“Start talking,” Marco said. “What happened?”I leaned back in the chair slowly.“We were ambushed,” I said. “Masked men. Organized. Professional. They weren’t random thugs.”Marco nodded.“Kidnapping Alessandro was the real objective?”“Yes.”Tommy leaned forward.“Who do you think did it?”I didn’t answer immed







