Chapter 4 - The Empty CoffinThe next morning, Dante didn't let me leave.
Not that I wanted to.
The previous night had shattered something inside me.
The world I understood had disappeared.
A waitress.
A restaurant.
Rent.
Bills.
A broken refrigerator.
Those problems suddenly seemed absurdly small.
Because now armed men stood outside every door.
And somewhere in the city, someone wanted me alive for reasons I couldn't understand.
Dante entered the dining room at eight.
He wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
Neither had I.
“Eat.”
“I don't want to.”
“You need food.”
“I need answers.”
He paused.
Then sat opposite me.
“You'll get them.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“You kidnapped me.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“You were attacked.”
“You won't let me leave.”
“Correct.”
“That's kidnapping.”
“Then call it protection.”
“Protection doesn't usually involve armed guards.”
“Mine does.”
I hated that he almost made me smile.
Almost.
Then Matteo entered.
His hair was messy.
He climbed into the chair beside me.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
He looked at Dante.
“Can she stay forever?”
Dante nearly choked on his coffee.
“Matteo.”
“Why?”
“Because she has a home.”
Matteo looked at me.
“Do you?”
The question hit unexpectedly hard.
I had a home.
Technically.
But it had never felt like one.
“No,” I whispered.
Dante heard me.
His eyes changed.
He said nothing.
After breakfast, he took me to his study.
A wall of photographs covered one side of the room.
Men.
Women.
Families.
Dates.
Locations.
I stared.
“What is this?”
“My family.”
He stopped in front of one photograph.
A younger Dante stood beside a tall man with gray hair.
“My father.”
“He looks…”
“Happy?”
“Yes.”
“He wasn't.”
Dante turned.
“He built everything on fear.”
“And you?”
“I inherited it.”
“And Luca?”
“My younger brother.”
“Why did he die?”
Silence.
“Car accident.”
I stared at him.
“You don't believe that.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Dante opened a drawer.
Inside was a newspaper clipping.
MISSING MORETTI BROTHER PRESUMED DEAD.
I looked at the date.
Seven years ago.
“His body was never found.”
“But you said he died.”
“I was told he died.”
He put the photograph from the restaurant beside the article.
“My father taught us one rule.”
“What rule?”
“Never believe a death you didn't witness.”
My skin prickled.
“So Luca could be alive.”
Dante looked directly at me.
“He could.”
Then the door opened.
One of his men rushed in.
“Boss.”
Dante turned.
“The cemetery.”
“What about it?”
“The camera caught someone entering your father's mausoleum last night.”
Dante went still.
“Who?”
The man shook his head.
“We couldn't identify him.”
“Show me.”
The screen displayed a grainy image.
A figure in a black coat.
Standing before the mausoleum.
Then the figure turned.
Even through the poor resolution, I recognized the profile.
I stopped breathing.
“Dante.”
He looked at me.
“You know him?”
“No.”
But I did.
Not personally.
From somewhere else.
I grabbed the tablet.
“That man…”
“Who?”
“I saw him once.”
“Where?”
“At Aurelios.”
Dante's face went cold.
“When?”
“The night before the accident.”
He stepped closer.
“What did he do?”
“He stood outside the restaurant.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“What did he do?”
I swallowed.
“He was watching the corner booth.”
Dante didn't move.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
A voice spoke.
Dante's eyes fixed on mine.
“Say it again.”
Silence.
Then Dante whispered:
“Impossible.”
“What?”
He lowered the phone.
“We found Luca.”
I stared at him.
“Where?”
Dante's expression was one I had never seen before.
May you like
Fear.
“He's standing outside your apartment.”
