Page 27 of Code Name: Dante

“Tell us about Judge Martinez,” McKinney said, referring to one of the most damaging parts of our case.

Vincent’s lawyer immediately objected. “Your Honor, this line of questioning?—”

“Speaks directly to the RICO charges,” McKinney countered. “Judge Martinez’s murder is central to establishing the pattern of corruption and violence.”

The judge nodded. “Overruled. Continue, Ms. McKinney.”

I took a deep breath, remembering that night. “Judge Martinez had been in the organization’s pocket for years. But when his daughter got sick and needed expensive experimental treatment, he started having second thoughts. He approached me, knowing my role in security, asking for help getting out.”

“And what happened?”

“I arranged a meeting with the DOJ and got him into witness protection. But someone inside the program was compromised.” My voice hardened. “The judge and his entire family were killed in what was made to look like a home invasion.”

Vincent’s smile widened fractionally. Another lesson he’d taught me—making examples of those who betrayed the family. I thought of the threatening letters Lark had received and the flooding of her shop. History repeating itself in new ways.

“The defendant’s own brother,” Vincent’s lawyer said during cross-examination, his tone dripping with theatrical dismay. “Working against his family, betraying sacred trust. One might question the character of someone capable of such deception.”

“Objection,” McKinney called. “Argumentative.”

“Sustained.”

But Vincent’s lawyer pressed on. “How do we know you’re not still playing a role, Mr. Castellano? Still working both sides?”

“Because unlike my brother, I chose to stand against corruption and murder.” I met Vincent’s eyes. “Some loyalties run deeper than blood.”

The hours dragged on,a careful dance of questions and answers. I kept my responses measured, professional, even as, in the back of my mind, whatever was happening in Gloversville worried me in a profound way.

During the next recess, I found McKinney in the conference room, surrounded by case files.

“Vincent’s got muscle in Gloversville,” I blurted.

She looked up sharply. “The Gregory family? We can arrange witness protection?—”

“They won’t go for it. And my brother knows that.” I ran a hand through my hair. “He’s using them to distract me, throw me off balance during testimony.”

“Then, don’t let him.” Her voice was firm. “The evidence is solid. Your testimony is crucial, but not the only thing that will put him away. Trust your team to handle things there.”

She was right, of course. But all I could think about was Lark’s kiss on my cheek, her whispered, “be safe,” and how she’d looked at me in the coffee shop, wanting to trust but afraid to.

The afternoon sessionbegan with further financial testimony. Vincent sat perfectly still, but I could feel his attention shift every time his lawyer received a text—no doubt with updates from Gloversville.

“Mr. Castellano, is there anything else you’d like to tell the court?” McKinney asked.

I looked at my brother—really looked at him—seeing not the polished businessman in an expensive suit who ran a powerful criminal organization, but the boy who’d taught me to ride a bike, throw a punch, and survive in our father’s harsh world. The man who’d twisted those lessons into weapons, using family loyalty to justify destruction.

“The violence, the corruption, the lives destroyed—all of it was a choice. And we all have to live with the choices we make,” I said quietly.

Vincent’s mask slipped for just a moment, showing something dark and dangerous beneath. The question was, how many moves ahead had he planned? And more importantly, would I be able to stay one step in front of him while trapped in this courtroom?

“We’ll resume Monday morning at nine,” the judge announced, gaveling the session to a close shortly after three.

Vincent stood. “Give my regards to Barbara,” he said softly as officers led him past. “Such a charming woman.” Again, his message hit exactly where he’d wanted it to.

Neither of our eyes wavered as I watched him walk out, remembering all the times I’d seen that same satisfied expression—right before he destroyed someone’s world. But this time was different. This time, as long as I could keep my wits about me, I could anticipate his next move. Then, I’d strike back.

My first two orders of business would be calling in every favor owed to me to make sure Vincent was moved to solitary confinement and that all of his assets were frozen. Both things should’ve already happened. However, now that Judge Hellerstein was presiding rather than the judge Vincent had paid off, I hoped they would soon.

I’d just walked out of the courtroom when my cell vibrated. I pulled it out and saw it was a call instead of a text from Tank.

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