Page 66 of Code Name: Dante

I nodded once, buried my face in his shoulder, and sobbed. After several seconds, I pulled away. “I’m sorry. I know you need to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”

“I will be. It’s just so disappointing, you know? I mean, of course you do. It’s the same for you, isn’t it?”

“It is, Lark, which is one of the reasons I don’t want to let go yet. Your embrace gives me as much comfort as mine does you.”

“I don’t want to ever let go.”

Alessandro cupped my cheek. “Neither do I, and soon, we won’t have to.”

I prayed he was right.

23

DANTE

The visitors’ room of the Metropolitan Correctional Center was colder than I expected, the kind of institutional chill designed to make people uncomfortable. I’d been waiting nearly twenty minutes—long enough to wonder if Vincent would refuse to see me—when the heavy door finally opened.

My brother entered with the same fluid grace he’d shown in the courtroom, as though the shackles were merely accessories rather than restraints. His gaze found mine immediately, and the slight curve of his lips told me he’d delayed his arrival intentionally. Some things never changed—Vincent had always understood the power of making people wait.

“Well.” He settled into the metal chair across from me with practiced ease. “This is an interesting development. Shouldn’t you be preparing for your next day of testimony?”

I studied him, noting the calculated intelligence behind his casual demeanor. Everything about Vincent was deliberate—from his unhurried movements to the way he settled into the seat like this was his office. Even here, where every one of his freedoms had been compromised, he projected an aura of absolute control.

“I was at the lake house today.”

His expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his eyes. “Were you, now?” His voice carried that familiar note of condescension he’d always used when he thought I was missing something obvious. “And what did you hope to find in that old place?”

Memories of summers at Great Sacandaga Lake flickered through my mind—the smell of pine needles, the sound of waves against the dock, our mother’s laugh carrying across the water. Before everything changed. Before she vanished into whatever elaborate protection scheme Vincent had constructed.

“I met our sister.”

For just a moment, the mask slipped. A flash of something—concern? Pride? Then his features smoothed back into that practiced calm. But not before I caught the slight tightening around his eyes that told me I’d scored a point.

“Interesting assumption.”

“It’s not an assumption. The resemblance to Mom is unmistakable.” I leaned forward slightly, studying him.

A muscle twitched in his jaw—another tell I remembered from the years spent in his presence. It meant I was getting too close to something he wanted to protect.

“If you’re trying to provoke me, little brother, you’ll have to do better.” He adjusted his position, making the chains clink softly. “Though I am curious why you’d come all this way just to report a visit to a place that stopped mattering years ago.”

I shifted tactics. “We found your cache of photos of Lark Gregory. Obsessed much?”

His laugh was soft but held no warmth. It reminded me of Vincent Senior’s laugh—the one he’d use right before someone got hurt. “You still don’t see it, do you? After all these years playing both sides, you still can’t recognize the bigger picture when it’s right in front of you.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Why should I? So you can add it to your testimony? Include it in whatever deal you’ve made with the DOJ?” He tilted his head like I was a particularly disappointing child. “Tell me, does it help you sleep at night, believing your betrayal was justified?”

“Mybetrayal?” The words were paired with the same level of condescension he’d used. “You’re the one who continued your father’s legacy. Drug trafficking, murder, judicial corruption?—”

“I protected this family!” The words cracked like a whip in the sterile room. Then, just as quickly, his voice returned to that same controlled calm that was somehow more threatening than any show of anger. “Everything I did was to maintain the delicate balance that kept certain people alive.”

“What balance? Between whom?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Have you ever wondered, Alessandro, why our father wanted nothing to do with you? Why I always made sure to stand between you and him?” He traced a pattern on the table with one finger.

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