Chapter 6 - The Man Beside DanteDante did not turn.
Nico had a gun pointed at his back.
For twenty years, Nico had stood beside him.
Weddings.
Funerals.
Deals.
Wars.
He had taken a bullet for Dante in Brooklyn.
Dante had held Nico’s newborn son.
There were betrayals that made men angry.
This one simply made Dante tired.
“How long?”
Nico answered.
“Long enough.”
Elena stared at him.
“Where is Sophia?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“That depends on Dante.”
Mateo moved slightly.
Nico pointed the gun toward him.
“Don’t.”
Mateo stopped.
Dante finally turned.
“Vittorio owns you?”
Nico smiled faintly.
“Nobody owns me.”
“Then why?”
“Your father killed mine.”
Dante said nothing.
Nico continued.
“My father was one of Gabriel’s men.”
The old sins again.
Always fathers.
Always sons.
Always blood demanding payment from people who had never spilled it.
Dante looked at him.
“So you kidnapped a three-year-old.”
Something flickered across Nico’s face.
“I didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
“I arranged access. Vittorio sent someone else.”
“You let them take her.”
Nico’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Elena lunged.
Dante caught her.
“Let me go!”
“Elena.”
“He gave them my baby!”
Nico looked away.
That tiny movement told Dante more than words.
Nico was ashamed.
Good.
Shame meant something human remained.
“Where?”
Nico shook his head.
“I can’t.”
Dante stepped toward him.
“You know me.”
“That’s exactly why I can’t.”
“No.”
Dante’s voice became almost gentle.
“You knew my father.”
Nico’s expression shifted.
“I’m not him.”
Another step.
“You spent twenty years waiting for me to become him.”
Nico’s gun remained steady.
“And maybe I did.”
Dante stopped directly in front of the barrel.
“But Sophia is three.”
Nico swallowed.
“She has nothing to do with Salvatore.”
“No.”
“Gabriel.”
“No.”
“Vittorio.”
“No.”
Dante looked directly into his eyes.
“So decide what kind of man you are.”
The church remained silent.
Rain fell through the broken roof.
Finally, Nico lowered the gun.
“Blackwater House.”
Dante knew the property.
An abandoned estate north of the city.
“Vittorio?”
“Already there.”
“Isabella?”
“No.”
“The bird?”
“Vittorio believes Mateo has the recording.”
Mateo reached beneath his coat.
Nico raised his weapon again.
“Easy.”
Mateo removed a small brass cylinder.
“The bird contained a microcassette.”
Dante stared.
“My mother recorded my father?”
Mateo nodded.
“Everything.”
“Why did your mother have it?”
“Because Caterina gave it to her.”
Elena looked at Mateo.
“Mama knew Mrs. Moretti?”
Mateo’s eyes filled with regret.
“She worked for her.”
Elena stepped backward.
“What?”
“Before you were born.”
Dante began to understand.
Their mothers had known each other.
Their families had been connected long before Elena entered the Moretti estate.
“Play it.”
Mateo hesitated.
“Play it.”
He inserted the cassette into an old handheld recorder.
Static.
Then Caterina’s voice.
Older.
Tired.
Terrified.
“Salvatore, Gabriel knows about the docks.”
A man answered.
Dante’s father.
“He should have kept his mouth shut.”
“He’s your nephew.”
“He’s a liability.”
“You burned his house.”
Silence.
Then Salvatore said:
“I gave Vittorio a choice.”
“You tried to kill a child.”
“I protected this family.”
Caterina began crying.
“No. You protected yourself.”
The recording continued.
Names.
Bribes.
Murders.
Judges.
Police officers.
Businesses.
Enough evidence to dismantle everything Salvatore Moretti had built.
Dante stood in the ruins of the church and listened to his father become a stranger.
Then another voice entered the recording.
Younger.
Nico’s father.
He threatened to expose Salvatore.
A gunshot followed.
Elena covered her mouth.
Nico closed his eyes.
For twenty years, he had wanted proof.
Now he had it.
Dante said quietly:
“My father murdered yours.”
Nico nodded.
“Yes.”
Dante looked at him.
“And you still helped kidnap Sophia.”
Nico opened his eyes.
“I know.”
Dante took the cassette.
“Then help me bring her home.”
Nico nodded.
But before anyone could move, the church windows exploded inward.
Gunfire tore through the pews.
Dante dragged Elena behind the stone altar.
Mateo fired back.
Nico shouted.
Three vehicles surrounded the church.
Dante looked toward the rear exit.
“Vittorio?”
Nico shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Nico stared through the broken window.
His face went pale.
May you like
“Isabella.”
And outside, Dante’s fiancée stood beneath a black umbrella while armed men closed around the church.
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