Page 18 of Dante
He gestures to the spacious living area. "Please, sit. Would you like a drink?"
"What I'd like are answers," I insist, but I move to one of the leather sofas anyway, perching on its edge. "Who were those men? What do they have to do with Marco?"
Dante disappears briefly into what I assume is a bathroom, returning with a first aid kit. He removes his ruined suit jacket, then begins rolling up his sleeve to reveal the cut on his forearm. It's deeper than I expected, still seeping blood.
"Let me," I say impulsively, rising to take the antiseptic and gauze from his hands. "You can talk while I do this."
He raises an eyebrow but sits, extending his arm toward me. I focus on cleaning the wound, grateful for the distraction of a concrete task.
"Those men work for Vincent Moretti," Dante begins, not even flinching as I apply the antiseptic to the cut. "A Russian with interests in shipping and distribution along the eastern seaboard. Recently, he's been trying to establish a presence in our city."
"And that's bad for you and my brother," I deduce, unrolling a length of gauze.
"It's complicated," he says, watching me work. "Territory and business relationships in our world operate on delicate balances. New players disrupt those balances."
"So, these men attacked us because their boss is competing against my brother and you?" I press the gauze to his wound, perhaps a bit harder than necessary.
"No," Dante says, his eyes finding mine. "They attacked because your brother has been doing business with them. Against established agreements."
I pause in my bandaging. "What does that mean?"
"It means Marco is playing a dangerous game," Dante explains, his voice hardening slightly. "He's making deals with too many competing interests. Moretti's people, the Albanians, even some of the Chinese. He's promising the same territories, the same concessions, to multiple parties."
"That doesn't make sense," I argue, securing the bandage with medical tape. "Marco isn't stupid. He knows how these things work."
"He's desperate," Dante counters. "His operation is bleeding money, and he's looking for quick infusions of cash to keep it afloat."
My hands still on his arm. "How do you know that?"
"Because I make it my business to know." His expression is unreadable. "And because I have people in his organization who report to me."
The implication takes a moment to register. "You have spies in my brother's business? You're the one betraying him?"
A flash of something—perhaps irritation—crosses Dante's face. "This isn't about betrayal, Elena. It's about survival. Your brother has at least one high-level traitor in his inner circle, possibly more. And it's not just me they're reporting to."
"What are you saying?" I release his arm, stepping back.
"I'm saying Marco has lost the confidence of his people," Dante says bluntly. "In our world, loyalty is everything. Without it, you're finished."
"So those men tonight..."
"Were sending a message. To Marco, through you." He rises, moving to a cabinet where he retrieves two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid. "They know he keeps you separate from the business. Attacking you crosses a line. It tells him they don't respect that separation. That nothing is off-limits anymore."
He pours two measures, offering one to me. I take it, my mind racing to process everything he's telling me.
"Marco keeps saying he's protecting me," I say quietly, staring into the glass. "But he's the one who put me in danger, isn't he?"
"Yes." Dante doesn't soften the truth. "By making enemies of everyone, he's exposed you. These people know you're his weakness. They'll exploit that."
"And you?" I look up at him directly. "Where do you fit in all this? Are you his enemy too?"
Dante considers the question, taking a sip of his drink before answering. "I'm his rival. There's a difference."
"Is there?" I challenge. "You have spies in his organization. You're clearly planning something against him."
"I'm planning to survive," he corrects. "Marco's actions are destabilizing everything. If he continues, there will be a war that engulfs this entire city. I'm trying to prevent that."
"By what? Taking over his territory? Eliminating him?" The words taste bitter on my tongue.
