Page 98 of Obsession & Oath

I stay quiet, hoping he’ll drop it. He doesn’t.

“It’s about Carmen, isn’t it?”

Her name is a gunshot to my system. I exhale through my nose, jaw tightening.

“You spent months with her, Dante. You think no one noticed when you reacted like that the other day? I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was…it changed you.”

I set my cup down carefully, staring at the dark liquid inside. “We should go.”

“I’m just saying, if you need to talk about it?—”

“There’s nothing left to talk about,” I intend the words to come out scathing, but I’m too tired for them to carry any weight. “What’s done is done.”

Rocco watches me for another second before sighing, letting it go. We finish off the coffee and stand in silence, both eager to get home and sleep before Leon inevitably sends us out again.

Only, as we step outside, something shifts in the corner of my vision. A dull alarm bell begins to whirl within me.

It’s subtle at first—just a prickle at the back of my neck, an itch in my instincts honed from years in this life.

The street is quiet, but not empty. People come and go, lost in their own routines. But there, on the opposite sidewalk, a woman hesitates too long before falling into step behind us.

She’s careful, but not careful enough.

I don’t acknowledge her. Instead, I keep walking, leading Rocco around the corner into a narrow alley between two brick buildings. The second I’m out of sight, I spin, pressing my back to the wall, waiting.

It’s a testament to our friendship—or shared sleep depravity—that Rocco goes along with it without uttering a word.

Sure enough, footsteps follow.

The moment she turns into the alley, I grab her, twisting her wrist and shoving her up against the wall.

She lets out a frightened yelp.

“Who are you?” I demand, voice low and dangerous. “Why are you following me?”

The woman trembles beneath my grip, her dark eyes wide with fear. I ease my hold slightly, just enough to let her breathe but not enough for her to run.

“I’m not your enemy,” she rushes out, her voice thick with her Mexican accent. “Please—I need to speak with you. You’re Dante Grasso, right?”

“Who are you?” I demand again.

She swallows, gathering her nerve. “My name is Melissa Alvarado. I’ve been employed by the Rubios for more than twenty years.”

Rocco is at my side in an instant, cold and threatening. “You’re on the wrong side of town to be declaring your allegiance to the Cartel.”

“Please! I’m a doctor. Please,SeñorGrasso. I’ve known Carmen since she was a child. I was there when she was born, when she took her first steps?—”

I tense.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m Carmen’s doctor. Her family doctor,” the woman—Melissa—cries out.

I try to squash the kernel of hope that threatens to explode from my chest. “Prove it.”

“Carmen has a birthmark,” she answers quickly. “A small one, shaped like a crescent moon. Just beneath her?—”

“Her left shoulder blade,” I finish before I can stop myself.

---