The Warning

Chapter 5

“Going after me?”

The word lingered in the dense, bulletproof atmosphere of the SUV. My voice was a fragile string, about to break under the pressure of Dante’s statement.

“You are a Moretti,” Dante said, his expression impassive as the tinted windows absorbed the city lights going past. “And right now, there is someone who sees your bloodline as a threat, one which has to be wiped out before you understand what you really have.”

Before I could ask what he meant by that last part, the heavy vehicle came to an abrupt stop within an enormous underground garage. The heavy metal gates of the De Luca property closed behind us with a deafening clatter. We were at his fortress.

“Out,” whispered Dante, passing through the door that the guard was holding for him.

I followed him out, grasping the hard, bloodstained fabric of my destroyed wedding gown. I was dizzy with shock. The sniper was not setting up my father, they were after me.

A tall, sharp woman wearing a well-tailored dark grey business suit stepped forward with a silver tray containing a white towel and a folded sheet of thick parchment paper.

“Welcome back, Boss. Mrs. De Luca,” she said, giving a sharp, low bow. “This was slipped under the perimeter gate just three minutes ago. It is addressed directly to the bride.”

Dante tried to grab it, but I grabbed the thick paper from the tray before he could. My hands shook slightly, leaving faint red marks on the smooth linen envelope.

“Fina,” Dante threatened, his hand going up to stop me. “Let my security team check it out.”

“It’s for me,” I said sharply, stepping back and tearing open the wax seal.

In it there was only one card, elegantly penned in black ink:

You’ve just married the devil who shot your father six years ago. Ask him about the Moretti warehouse fire, little bird. Ask him who murdered Marco Moretti.

The blood froze solid in my veins. The paper danced in my hand as the underground parking lot appeared to be tilting on its axis. Six years earlier, my father had been murdered in a brutal ambush in the midst of the Moretti-De Luca war. My uncle had spent six years vowing revenge on the unknown murderer who had torn apart our family.

I looked at Dante. The fury, which had been held back all day from the horror of what had occurred, burst out again like an atomic blast.

“YOU,” I hissed, moving closer to him, the piece of paper clenched in my shaking hand. “Tell me this is a lie.”

Dante looked down at the crumpled up piece of paper in front of him. His face held no sign of shock whatsoever. He didn’t even blink once.

“Tell me!” I screamed, pressing my hand into his chest, which felt as hard as a brick wall. My eyes burned with hot tears. “Tell me you didn’t kill him! My uncle spent years looking for the man who killed my father! He told me he was just some rogue hitman! He told me—”

“Your uncle lied to you.”

It was a cold, matter-of-fact tone that felt like a slap right across the face.

“Is it true, then?” I asked, choking on a sob that tore from my throat. “You murdered him. You murdered my father and then you had the nerve to stand in church today and call yourself my savior!”

“I pulled the trigger,” Dante answered.

No pause. No denial. No excuse. He simply towered over me in his black suit, confessing to the murder of my family as if he was giving a weather report.

The rage inside me exploded and I lashed out, slapping him across the face.

Dante did not even flinch but his hand moved fast, grabbing my wrist almost half an inch before my skin touched him. He held me with his strong grip, keeping my hand mid-air in front of us both. He drew me forward half a step, so close that I had no choice but to look straight into his dark, menacing eyes.

“Bastard!” I cried out, struggling to break free from his iron hold on me as tears finally streamed down my face. “You are the monster my father warned me about! You have ruined my life and my family!”

“Yes, I am a monster, Fina,” Dante said in a deep, dark voice. “But if you think that I am the villain in your little story, you are missing something.”

“You just admitted to killing my own blood!” I screamed as I tried to pull free from him. “How can there be anyone more evil than the man who killed my family and put a ring on my finger?”

“Because I’ve given you an option today, Serafina,” Dante answered quietly as he rubbed the spot where my pulse beat rapidly under his thumb. “Those who set up the sniper to kill you will never do that for you.”

“Why?” I cried out as I gasped for breath. “Why now? Why confess the truth? Why don’t you lie to me? It would have been easy to say that the note was a ruse from the Rossis to turn us against each other.”

Dante gazed down at me, his dark eyes softening a bit. A brief, terrifying glance of something that was primal and fiercely protective lying dormant under ice.

He did not let go of my wrist but instead tugged my hand up, bringing my knuckles along with the cold ring on my finger right against his pounding heart.

“Because I’ll never lie to you, Fina,” Dante told me in a voice that was frighteningly soft, his words dripping with a truth that chilled me to the core. “And because allowing you to despise me for murdering someone is easier.”

I gazed at him, feeling my heart pound frantically against my chest. “Easier than what?”

Dante leaned close to me, his lips dangerously close to my ear.

“Because the truth about your father,” he murmured, “would hurt you more.”