Page 3 of Code Name: Dante

He was right. And most men didn’t have to watch their own brother become everything they fought against. Or face sitting on a witness stand, spending hours upon hours testifying against him. When I closed my eyes at night, the first thing I saw was the hatred he’d leveled at me when we first came face-to-face after he learned the full extent of what he saw as my betrayal. It reminded me of our father, the man he’d become alike. A man who ruled everything with an iron fist, including his wife and sons.

“Dante?”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re patient. You know how to play the long game.” Grit finished his whiskey. “Just don’t take too long. That woman’s building walls against you brick by brick.”

I smiled for the first time that day. “Then, I guess I’ll have to find a way through them.”

“The Castellano charm?” Grit teased.

“No.” I shook my head. “She deserves better than charm or games. She deserves the truth.”

“The whole truth?” He raised an eyebrow.

I watched as Alice pulled Lark into an embrace, both women laughing about something. “She needs to know who I really am—who I’ve always been, under the cover of stories and lies.”

Across the room, Lark looked up and our eyes met briefly before she quickly turned away. But at that moment, I’d seen something that gave me hope, like maybe her walls weren’t as solid as she wanted them to be.

Yes,I thought, watching her pretend to be absorbed in adjusting flowers that were already perfectly arranged. I would find a way through those walls. No matter how long it took.

When the jazz quartet began to play something slow and romantic, Admiral led Alice onto the makeshift dance floor, holding her like she was the most precious thing in his world. Other couples joined them—Diesel and Bryar, Tank and his date. Even Grit found a partner.

But I stayed where I was, watching the woman who’d haunted my thoughts since the first time I saw her smile. A smile I hoped to earn back one day.

After all, I had nothing but time now. And Lark Gregory was worth every second of it.

I just had to prove to her I wasn’t who she thought I was.

2

LARK

“He was staring at you again before we came in here,” Alice said as I helped her out of her wedding dress.

The sun streamed through the windows of Kane Mountain Great Camp’s master bedroom, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. Through the door, I could hear the men’s voices carrying up from the other room, including one with a hint of a Brooklyn accent that made my stomach flutter against my will.

“He’s been doing that all day.” I focused on the delicate row of buttons, refusing to glance in the direction of where I knew Alessandro Castellano lurked somewhere nearby with the best man and groomsman. “I don’t know what his game is, but I’m not playing.”

“There is no game, Lark.” Alice turned to face me once I finished with the buttons. “Alessandro spent years undercover, gathering evidence against his own family to help bring down his brother, the man responsible for my sister’s death.”

“Sarah,” I whispered, remembering the vibrant woman who’d always ordered a plain coffee with a wink, saying Matcha was too fancy for her tastes. Another life lost to the Castellanos’ web of corruption and violence.

The memory of Sarah’s last visit to the shop hit me—her infectious laugh, how she’d lean against the counter and tell me about her latest adventure. She’d been planning a hiking trip that weekend and wanted me to go with her since Alice always told her she was too busy working. No doubt, it was something my friend agonizingly regretted now. “Life’s too short to miss out on things like hikes,” she’d said. A week later, she was gone.

“I understand everyone thinks of him as a white knight now, but that wasn’t always the case.” I helped Alice step out of her dress, careful not to let the beaded hem catch on anything. “His family has long been considered one of the most notorious and deadly crime organizations in New York State. You don’t grow up in that world and come out clean.”

“People can change. They can choose different paths.”

“My family’s life in Gloversville was different,” I protested. “It was about honest work and craftsmanship. Until Alessandro’s mob moved in and destroyed everything my grandfather built.”

My fingers trembled as I hung up the wedding dress, remembering the pride in Gram’s voice when she’d talk about the factory before everything fell apart. The way she described it was so detailed I could almost imagine being there. The rich smell of leather, the rhythmic sound of the sewing machines, the skilled hands that turned raw materials into works of art. Now gone because of families like the Castellanos.

On one of my monthly visits to see my grandmother, I realized that, while she wasn’t to the point where she needed full-time care, she couldn’t live alone anymore, either. With my mom—her daughter—off God knew where with God knew who, returning home hadn’t been so much a choice as a necessity.

Before I could say anything else, even change the subject, there was a knock at the door. “Everything okay in there?” Pershing called out.

“We’re good,” Alice answered, her whole face lighting up at the sound of her new husband’s voice. The pure joy in her expression made my chest ache with a longing I refused to examine too closely. “Just getting into something more comfortable for the reception.”

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