Chapter Ten - Orders & Lies

Dante climbed the stairs slowly, deliberately, every step steady despite the adrenaline still threading through his veins. Aria’s confession replayed in his mind — the tremor in her voice, the truth in her eyes, the desperation she didn’t hide fast enough.

She wasn’t lying this time.

And that meant the real hunt could begin.

Marco and Rocco were waiting in the hallway, stiff, uneasy.

Good. They damn well should be uneasy.

Dante didn’t bother looking at them as he spoke.

“Marco.”

“Y-yes, boss?”

“Get everything you can on the Moretti brothers,” Dante ordered, voice like cold iron. “Names, locations, burner phones, safehouses — anything that moves, anything that breathes, anyone they’ve spoken to in the last six months.”

Marco straightened, nodding quickly. “You got it.”

“Not ‘got it.’” Dante turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“I want everything. You dig until your fingers bleed.”

Marco swallowed hard and nodded again. “Understood.”

Dante shifted his focus.

“Rocco.”

Rocco stepped forward. “Boss.”

“I want eyes on all known Moretti fronts. Old ones, burned ones, rumored ones. Find me every associate the brothers still trust.” His voice darkened. “If they whispered a secret to someone in kindergarten, I want that person found.”

Rocco grinned faintly, tension easing. “Now that I can do.”

“Good.”

Dante dismissed them with a flick of his hand.

The two men hurried off, not daring to waste a second. Once they were gone, Dante pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number only a handful of people in the world possessed.

It rang once.

Twice.

“Talk,” a gravelly voice answered.

“It’s Dante,” he said. “I need a location on Amanda Moretti.”

A low whistle crackled through the speaker. “Aria’s mother? That’s a dangerous woman to poke at, Valenti.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Dante’s tone didn’t rise, didn’t sharpen — it didn’t need to. His displeasure carried its own weight.

A pause. Then:

“Last rumor put Amanda in New York. Manhattan. Same penthouse she always falls back to when things get hot.”

Dante expected that. Aria had said something similar.

But then the man added, voice dropping:

“But that’s not the part you care about.”

Dante stilled.

“Get to the point.”

“The word is… Amanda might not be alone.”

Dante already knew where this was going.

He felt the answer coming like a storm.

“Who,” he asked.

A breath.

Quiet, heavy.

“People say she’s with her husband. Your little captive’s father.”

Dante’s grip tightened on the phone.

“Vincenzo,” he murmured. “He’s with her?”

“That’s what the whispers say.”

Whispers.

Rumors.

Usually worthless.

But when enough whispers stack on top of each other, they start sounding an awful lot like truth.

Dante ended the call without another word.

Vincenzo Moretti.

The ghost who vanished overnight.

The man who left his empire in the hands of two incompetent sons.

The man who raised a daughter more dangerous than all of them combined.

If he was with Amanda…

Then this wasn’t a disappearance.

It was a move.

A strategic one.

Dante stood still in the hallway, everything clicking into place.

Aria was never meant to know the truth.

She was never meant to follow.

She was never meant to survive long enough to become a problem.

And yet…

Here she was.

Chained in his basement.

Breaking beautifully.

Lying beautifully.

Telling the truth beautifully.

A problem and a prize in one.

Dante slid his phone back into his pocket and headed toward the stairs leading down.

Aria was loose now — he knew she’d freed herself.

He left her the tools on purpose.

And she took the bait.

Exactly as he expected.

Exactly as he wanted.

A small, dark smile curved his lips as he descended into the shadows again.

“Let’s see what you do next… little killer.”