Page 73 of Code Name: Dante

All at once, emergency lights flickered on, casting an eerie glow across the scene. Lark was still standing, shaking uncontrollably, but two bodies lay on the warehouse floor—the man who’d held the gun on her and a woman. As I sped to gather Lark in my arms, two figures ran from the opposite direction toward the fallen woman. My heart stopped as I recognized them—Summer and Chiara. Which meant the woman on the ground had to be my mother.

“Mom!” I cried as we rushed toward her. Jesus—she’d taken down Mazzeo to save Lark, but at what cost? Blood spread across her shirt where his bullet had found its mark.

The past and present collided in that moment—all the years of searching, all the secrets and lies, all leading to this warehouse floor where my mother lay bleeding for trying to protect the daughter of the woman who, according to my brother, she’d helped save so long ago.

The sound of sirens wailed in the distance, but all I could do was hold my mother’s hand in one of mine, praying I hadn’t found her just to lose her again.

Her eyes fluttered open right before the EMTs burst through the door, and her grip on my hand tightened. “I’m okay, Sandro. The vest caught most of it.”

For the first time, I noticed the tactical gear beneath her bloodied shirt. Relief flooded through me as questions raced through my mind. Before I could ask any of them, the emergency team crowded around to examine her, asking if I could move out of their way.

I turned around and spotted Lark just as Summer stepped forward.

“My beautiful girl,” I heard her say softly as I approached. Summer reached out to touch Lark’s cheek. Tears streamed down both their faces. “I’m so sorry—for everything.”

Lark’s breath hitched. “It’s okay. I know you were trying to protect me.”

Chiara approached cautiously. “The man and woman who followed us in through the back door said the local police have the perimeter secured, and that he’s calling in federal backup.”

My mother sat up with the EMTs’ help, wincing. “We owe you all so many explanations.”

“Later,” I said firmly. “Let’s get you checked out first.”

“So protective,” she said with a sad smile. “Just like your brother.”

That stopped me cold. “Vincent?”

“He kept us safe all these years.” Summer’s voice from behind me was quiet but clear. “The Mazzeos knew I was the one who took Anthony’s life.” She squeezed Lark’s hand. “I had no choice. He threatened to kill me—and you, the baby I was carrying—because I refused to get an abortion. He would’ve that night if I hadn’t…”

“Vincent created new identities for us and kept us hidden,” said my mother. “Then, after my husband died, he arranged for us to be able to return to the compound.”

“It was my fault,” said Summer. “The Mazzeos would never have stopped looking for me. They wanted revenge for Anthony’s death. Today, they almost…”

My mother reached for Summer’s hand. “But they didn’t, sweet girl. We all survived, and we’re going to continue to.”

“I can walk,” my mother protested when the EMTs lifted her onto a stretcher.

“Mom, please, you’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Chiara.

“Very well, but I’m only doing this so my daughter doesn’t worry.” I watched as they took her out to the waiting emergency vehicle.

“After Vincent went to prison, things got really hard,” Chiara said in a quiet voice. “We were all so scared.” She turned to Summer. “Not that you and Mom would admit it.”

When Summer gathered Chiara in her arms, it was apparent that the three women had formed a bond, become family to each other.

“They’re transporting the other gunman now,” reported Blackjack when he came inside. “I hit him, but not where it would be life-threatening.”

“Any idea who he is?” I asked.

Blackjack motioned with his head to where Mazzeo lay on the floor, dead. “His grandson.”

“Can we please get out of here?” Lark asked.

“Of course,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “I know we have a lot to talk about. I’m so sorry, and I just hope that one day you can forgive me.”

She stopped walking and turned to face me. “I’m the one who’s sorry. The things I said…I didn’t mean them.”

“Hey.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “None of that matters now.”

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