Chapter 5 - The Safe House With No Locks on Her Door
Dante did not take Sonia to a mansion.
She had expected marble.
Armed gates.
Maybe a panic room.
Instead, the safe house was a brownstone in Brooklyn Heights with bookshelves, old wood floors, and a kitchen that smelled faintly like coffee.
“This is your safe house?” Emma asked.
“Yes.”
“It looks like a professor lives here.”
“A professor did.”
“What happened to him?”
Dante stared.
Emma immediately raised her hands.
“Sorry. Mafia question.”
“He retired to Vermont.”
“Oh.”
Sonia almost laughed.
Thomas had been transferred temporarily to a private rehabilitation facility with police protection and medical oversight.
Emma insisted on staying with him.
Sonia refused to leave him at first.
Then the shooting changed things.
A federal task force became formally involved.
The bullet recovered from Thomas’s wall matched a weapon linked to two unsolved shootings involving Frankie’s old distribution network.
No proof of Gabriel.
Enough reason for caution.
Dante gave Sonia the upstairs bedroom.
She inspected the door.
“No lock.”
“I had it removed.”
“Why?”
He looked confused.
“You said safe house.”
“Yes.”
“People usually lock bedroom doors.”
He understood.
“I’ll have one installed.”
“Today.”
“Yes.”
“And I keep the key.”
“Yes.”
“Not you.”
“No.”
Sonia studied him.
He had learned.
That mattered.
The graze on Dante’s shoulder required twelve stitches.
He refused pain medication.
Sonia called him dramatic.
He called her ungrateful.
They argued over whether he should change the bandage himself.
She won.
At midnight, he sat shirtless at the kitchen table while she peeled away gauze.
Sonia tried not to notice the scars.
Failed.
One crossed his ribs.
Another cut across his left shoulder blade.
“Gunshots?” she asked.
“One.”
“The others?”
“Knife.”
“Plural?”
“Yes.”
“You live terribly.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She cleaned the wound.
He winced.
“You said you weren’t afraid of pain.”
“I never said that.”
“You act like it.”
“That is different.”
She paused.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Dante looked at her.
“There are many things.”
“About Gabriel.”
He sighed.
“Sonia.”
“You make that sound like a warning.”
“It is fatigue.”
She taped new gauze.
“What happened between you really?”
Dante looked at the table.
“When our father died, Gabriel expected to take over.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirty.”
“Gabriel?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“The captains voted.”
She blinked.
“That’s real?”
“Sometimes.”
“And they chose you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel was impulsive.”
“Were you not?”
“Less.”
“What did he do?”
Dante was silent too long.
“Tell me.”
“He had a man beaten nearly to death over a gambling debt.”
Sonia stopped.
“How much?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
“Did the man survive?”
“Yes.”
“Did Gabriel care?”
“No.”
“So people were afraid of him.”
“Yes.”
“But they trusted you.”
Dante looked at her.
“Trust is generous.”
“What would you call it?”
“They believed I could keep the organization profitable without starting wars.”
“That sounds like trust.”
“It sounds like fear with accounting.”
She smiled despite herself.
Dante continued.
“Gabriel never forgave the vote.”
“Did you try to reconcile?”
“For years.”
“What happened?”
“Matteo.”
Again.
The dead brother lived in every room.
Dante’s voice lowered.
“After Matteo died, I shut down Frankie’s counterfeit network. Gabriel said I was using grief to control everyone.”
“Were you?”
“Partly.”
Sonia appreciated the answer.
“You really don’t defend yourself much.”
“I’ve noticed you punish excuses more than mistakes.”
That surprised her.
“You’ve been studying me.”
“Yes.”
Dangerous answer.
She looked down.
His hand moved.
Not touching her.
Close.
“Sonia.”
She raised her eyes.
“You’re staring at my scars.”
“You have many.”
“You have some too.”
She frowned.
“What scars?”
“You talk about money like it might leave overnight.”
Her throat tightened.
“You watch every exit when you’re in hospitals.”
She stared.
“You apologize before asking people for help.”
He continued softly.
“You work until your hands shake.”
“Stop.”
He did.
Immediately.
That mattered more than she expected.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked away.
“My mother died while I was angry with her.”
Dante did not speak.
Sonia surprised herself by continuing.
“We fought because she wanted me to stop working weekends. She said I was missing my life.”
Her voice weakened.
“I told her not everyone had the luxury of resting.”
“What happened?”
“She called me twice that night.”
Sonia swallowed.
“I ignored both.”
Dante’s eyes softened.
“Third call was from a paramedic.”
“What happened?”
“Aneurysm.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
He was silent.
She looked at him.
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“That it wasn’t my fault.”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed.
He continued.
“Because I don’t think that helps.”
Sonia stared.
“You could not have prevented an aneurysm by answering a phone.”
Her eyes filled.
“But you wish the last conversation had been different.”
“Yes.”
“That part is yours.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
He did not wipe it away.
Did not reach for her.
“Regret doesn’t mean responsibility,” he said.
She laughed weakly.
“You should listen to yourself.”
“I rarely take my own advice.”
“I noticed.”
Their faces were too close.
Neither moved.
Then Dante’s phone rang.
He swore softly.
Sonia stepped back.
He answered.
“What?”
Pause.
His expression changed.
“When?”
He stood.
“What is it?”
He ended the call.
“Gabriel vanished.”
“Vanished?”
“His apartment is empty.”
“That seems bad.”
“Yes.”
“Did he run?”
“Maybe.”
Dante put on his shirt, wincing.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
She stared.
He buttoned the shirt.
“You expected me to say I was leaving.”
“Yes.”
“I promised you transparency.”
“That is not the same as staying.”
“No.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“But if Gabriel disappeared because he knows this address, leaving you alone would be stupid.”
“You have guards.”
“I know.”
“Then why stay?”
Dante looked at her.
The question changed the room.
“Because I want to.”
Sonia’s heart beat harder.
He added, “And because if someone shoots at this house, I would rather be here.”
“That is less romantic.”
“Good.”
“Much.”
He smiled.
The next morning, Sonia found him cooking eggs.
Or attempting to.
Smoke filled the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Breakfast.”
“You’re murdering breakfast.”
He looked offended.
“I can cook.”
“That pan disagrees.”
She took over.
Dante leaned against the counter.
For ten minutes, they were ordinary.
Then Luca arrived.
He placed a folder on the table.
“We found Caleb Ross.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“Where?”
“Pennsylvania.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Talking?”
“No.”
“Yet,” Luca said.
Sonia looked between them.
“Police?”
Luca looked at Dante.
Dante answered.
“He was arrested on federal fraud charges.”
“Good.”
Luca continued.
“They found account ledgers.”
Dante opened the folder.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Riverside Pharmacy.
Vinny Calabresi.
Frankie Bell.
Then another.
Gabriel Romano.
Sonia read over his shoulder.
“What is East Harbor Foundation?”
Dante went still.
“My mother’s charity.”
“Why is it here?”
Luca answered.
“Money moved through it.”
Dante stared at the page.
“No.”
“Boss—”
“My mother built that foundation.”
“I know.”
“It funds cancer care.”
Sonia’s stomach tightened.
Luca continued carefully.
“Someone used dormant accounts after she died.”
“Who had access?”
Dante already knew.
His face said it.
“Gabriel.”
The cruelty was precise.
Counterfeit medicine laundered through a cancer charity created by their mother.
Dante sat.
For the first time since Sonia met him, he looked broken.
Not angry.
Broken.
Sonia placed one hand on the table beside his.
Not touching.
Waiting.
Dante looked at it.
Then at her.
“I’m going to destroy him.”
Sonia’s breath caught.
“No.”
His eyes were cold.
“He used my mother’s name.”
“I know.”
“He helped move the pills that killed Matteo.”
“I know.”
“He threatened your family.”
“Yes.”
“I am going to end this.”
She held his gaze.
“Then do it right.”
His jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“Not revenge.”
“He deserves—”
“I don’t care what he deserves.”
She stepped closer.
“I care what happens to you after.”
Dante stared.
Sonia continued.
“If you kill him, he wins twice.”
Silence.
“You spend the rest of your life proving everyone who feared your name was right.”
Dante looked away.
“I don’t know another way.”
“Yes, you do.”
“How?”
“Evidence.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You think evidence fixes everything?”
“No.”
“I have watched guilty men buy judges.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
“Then teach me.”
He looked back.
“But don’t tell me violence is the only language you speak when I’ve watched you spend a week trying to learn another one.”
The words hit.
Hard.
Dante closed his eyes.
When he opened them, the rage was still there.
But contained.
“Luca.”
“Yes?”
“Everything goes to federal investigators.”
Luca stared.
“All ledgers?”
“All.”
“That exposes us too.”
“I know.”
“Boss.”
Dante looked at him.
“All.”
Sonia understood the cost.
He was not only giving up Gabriel.
He was opening his own organization.
Years of records.
Crimes.
People.
Maybe himself.
“You could go to prison,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Dante.”
He looked at her.
“You told me to do it right.”
Her throat tightened.
“I didn’t mean destroy yourself.”
May you like
He smiled sadly.
“Sometimes those are the same thing.”
