Chapter 8 - What Dante Was Really Afraid Of
Vittorio survived.
The bullet passed through his shoulder.
He was taken to a private hospital under armed guard.
Mrs. Rose was nowhere on the property.
Security footage showed a black SUV leaving through a service gate thirty seconds after the lights went out.
The driver used Thomas Bell’s access code.
Hannah stood in the command room while Dante watched the footage again.
And again.
And again.
At 5:12 A.M., she put her hand over the monitor.
“Stop.”
His eyes lifted.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Hannah.”
“You’ve watched it fourteen times.”
“Thirteen.”
“That is not better.”
He stood.
“I missed something.”
“You might not have.”
“I always miss something.”
There it was again.
The poison beneath every decision.
Hannah stepped closer.
“Dante.”
He turned away.
“Mrs. Rose raised me.”
“I know.”
“I left her unguarded because she was inside the house.”
“You had guards everywhere.”
“Not enough.”
“You cannot protect everyone every second.”
He slammed his hand against the desk.
“I should be able to!”
The room went silent.
Marco looked away.
Two guards pretended not to hear.
Dante closed his eyes.
Hannah understood.
This was the moment.
Not the empty bed.
Not the broken camera.
This.
The truth beneath the fear.
He did not fear death.
He feared responsibility without omnipotence.
He believed loving someone created an obligation to save them from every possible harm.
And every loss became evidence that he had failed.
Hannah took his hand.
“Come with me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I have work.”
“You have been awake for almost forty-eight hours.”
“Not relevant.”
“Very relevant.”
She pulled.
He did not move.
“Dante.”
Finally, he followed.
She took him to the old greenhouse.
The place where they had found Luca.
Morning light came through broken glass.
Hannah sat on one of the benches.
Dante remained standing.
“You’re going to hate what I’m about to say.”
“Likely.”
“You are not God.”
His expression turned cold.
“I am aware.”
“No, you’re not.”
He looked at her.
“You keep making deals with the universe. If you control enough, know enough, watch enough, then nobody you love will die.”
His jaw tightened.
“That is not what I do.”
“It is exactly what you do.”
She stood.
“And when something happens, you punish yourself because deep down you believe you should have prevented it.”
He said nothing.
“Your mother was attacked when you were seventeen.”
His face changed.
“You were seventeen, Dante.”
“I could have—”
“No.”
“You do not know what I could have done.”
“Neither do you.”
He turned away.
“My father—”
“Was poisoned by someone who planned it.”
“I left after the fight.”
“You left a room. You did not kill him.”
“Anthony—”
“Was betrayed.”
“Mrs. Rose—”
“Was kidnapped by people who cut the power and used stolen security codes.”
Dante’s breathing changed.
Hannah moved closer.
“Loving people does not make you responsible for every bad thing that happens to them.”
“It does in my world.”
“No. It gives you reasons to try. Not a guarantee.”
His eyes met hers.
She whispered, “You’re afraid because you love people.”
His face went still.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“You do not know what you are saying.”
“I do.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“You think this is some tragic flaw you can talk me out of.”
“I think it’s grief.”
“You think if you say the right sentence, I become normal.”
“I don’t care if you’re normal.”
His eyes flashed.
“Then what do you care about?”
“You.”
Silence.
It was the first time she said it without sarcasm or challenge.
Dante looked almost angry.
“Why?”
Hannah laughed softly.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A serious one.”
“I care about Luca.”
“I know.”
“I care about Mrs. Rose.”
“I know.”
“And I care about the man who photographs his brother’s A papers when nobody is looking.”
Dante’s face changed.
“How did you know that?”
“I see things too.”
He looked away.
She stepped closer.
“I care about the man who pays my tuition and then pretends it’s a business decision.”
“It was.”
“Liar.”
His mouth moved.
“I care about the man who is terrified of becoming his father even while spending every day trying to fix what his father broke.”
Dante’s eyes went bright.
He looked furious about it.
Hannah touched his face.
“And I care about the man who keeps walking away from me because he thinks wanting something makes it unsafe.”
His hand covered hers.
“I do not know how to do this.”
“Neither do I.”
“I have enemies.”
“I know.”
“I am not a good man.”
“That depends on the day.”
He almost laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
“I have done things you would hate.”
“Probably.”
“I may do things you hate again.”
“Then I’ll tell you.”
“You always do.”
“Exactly.”
His forehead touched hers.
“What if I lose you?”
There.
The naked truth.
Hannah’s throat tightened.
“You might.”
His hand dropped.
She caught it.
“Someday. People lose people. That is life.”
His face closed.
“But you don’t get to lose me early by pushing me away because you’re scared of losing me later.”
He stared at her.
“That is unfair.”
“It is also true.”
For a long time, neither moved.
Then Dante pulled her into his arms.
Not a kiss.
Not desire.
Something more vulnerable.
He held her as if he had finally admitted he needed to.
Hannah wrapped her arms around him.
His face pressed into her hair.
His breathing shook.
“I am so tired,” he whispered.
“I know.”
For two minutes, Dante Morelli did nothing.
He did not command.
He did not plan.
He did not protect.
He simply allowed someone else to hold part of the weight.
Then his phone rang.
He pulled back.
Marco.
Dante answered.
“Talk.”
Marco’s voice came through loud enough for Hannah to hear.
“We found Bell.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned machine shop in Yonkers.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Rose?”
“No.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“I’m coming.”
Hannah followed him out.
At the mansion, Luca intercepted them.
“I’m coming too.”
“No,” Dante said.
Luca’s face tightened.
“Mrs. Rose is my family.”
“I know.”
“Then stop locking me away.”
Dante froze.
Carlo’s letter.
Protect your brother. But do not turn him into a prisoner.
Hannah watched the conflict cross his face.
Finally, Dante said, “You stay with Marco’s team in the vehicle. You do not enter the building.”
Luca blinked.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Hannah almost smiled.
Progress.
Dante looked at her.
“You stay here.”
Progress had limits.
“No.”
“Hannah.”
“Mrs. Rose is my family too.”
His jaw tightened.
She raised an eyebrow.
He exhaled.
“Vehicle.”
“Fine.”
“Do not say it like that.”
She smiled.
The machine shop smelled of oil and rust.
Bell was tied to a chair when they arrived.
Not by Morelli men.
Someone else had left him there.
His face was bruised.
His right hand was bandaged.
Dante stood in front of him.
“Who took Evelyn?”
Bell laughed weakly.
“You still think I’m the problem.”
“Who?”
“They’ll kill my family.”
“Your family is in protective custody.”
Bell’s face changed.
Dante nodded.
“We found them before the plane landed.”
Bell closed his eyes.
“Then I’m dead anyway.”
“Not if you talk.”
Bell looked at Hannah through the open car door outside.
Then at Luca.
“You brought them?”
Dante’s voice went cold.
“Talk.”
Bell whispered one name.
“Gabriel Mercer.”
Dante went still.
Hannah had never heard it.
Vittorio had.
He had regained consciousness and joined by secure phone.
His voice came through Marco’s speaker.
“No.”
Dante looked at the phone.
“Who is Gabriel Mercer?”
Vittorio was silent.
Then he said, “Your father’s oldest friend.”
The harmless man Carlo had known since childhood.
Celeste’s video.
Dante’s face hardened.
“Where is he?”
Bell laughed.
“You don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Mercer doesn’t want the ledger.”
“What does he want?”
Bell looked at Luca.
“Carlo’s heir.”
Hannah’s blood went cold.
Dante turned toward his brother.
Too late.
The SUV door behind Luca slammed.
The engine roared.
A driver Hannah had thought was Morelli security tore away from the curb.
“LUCA!”
Dante ran.
Hannah had never heard a sound like the one that came from him.
Not anger.
Not rage.
Pure terror.
His worst fear, happening in front of him.
The car disappeared around the corner.
Dante stood in the road, breathing hard.
For one second, the old pattern returned.
Self-blame.
Panic.
The certainty that he had failed.
Then Hannah grabbed his face with both hands.
“Look at me.”
His eyes found hers.
“You are not too late.”
His breathing shook.
“We know who took him.”
Dante stared.
“We know what they want.”
His hands closed around her wrists.
“And we are going to get him back.”
Something in Dante changed.
Fear remained.
But it no longer controlled him.
He nodded once.
Then turned to Marco.
May you like
“Find my brother.”
And for the first time in fifteen years, Dante Morelli faced terror without pretending he felt none.
