Chapter 5 - Whispers of Betrayal
The headlights did not belong to the Santoros.
Three black Cadillac Escalades screeched to a halt outside the shed, and within seconds, the heavy wooden door was breached by Valente soldiers led by Leo, Dante’s second-in-command and childhood confidant.
“Boss!” Leo shouted, lowering his assault rifle as he saw Dante propped against the wall, his arm wrapped around Sienna. “Christ. We lost your satellite ping on Lake Shore.”
“Santoros had military-grade jammers,” Dante grunted, allowing Leo and another soldier to hoist him to his feet. “Get her into the car. Double the perimeter at the estate. Nobody sleeps tonight.”
By the time they returned to Lake Forest, a private surgical team was already waiting in the west wing. Dante refused general anesthesia, demanding only local numbing while the doctor cleaned and stitched the wound. Sienna stood in the corner of the room, still wrapped in the ruined emerald gown, refusing to leave despite Lucia’s gentle entreaties.
She watched Dante endure the needle and thread without making a sound, his knuckles white against the armrests, his eyes locked onto hers across the room.
When the doctor finished and bandaged the wound, Dante dismissed everyone.
“Not you, Leo,” Dante said, his voice weak but razor-sharp. “Stay.”
Leo lingered by the foot of the bed, his expression dark. He was a broad-shouldered man with a scar running across his chin, someone who had served the Valente family for fifteen years.
“How did they know my route?” Dante asked simply.
The room went dead silent.
“Dante,” Leo began, hesitating. “We took the secondary path. Only three people knew the itinerary.”
“Which means someone sold it,” Dante said, leaning his head back against the pillows. His gaze shifted slowly, deliberately, toward Sienna.
Sienna felt the room drop twenty degrees. “You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with that.”
“You had your hands on a phone this morning,” Leo pointed out, his hand instinctively dropping toward his sidearm. “You were a South Side nobody until yesterday. For all we know, the Santoros planted you at that tea shop.”
“Are you insane?” Sienna stepped forward, furious tears pricking her eyes. “I held his ribs together with my own dress! If I wanted him dead, I could have let him bleed out on that dirt floor!”
“Enough,” Dante’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
He looked at Leo. “It wasn’t her. If Marco Santoro had the brains to plant an operative like Sienna, he’d already run this city. Check the communications of the drivers. Check the hotel staff. If an insider leaked the route, I want their head on my desk by sunset.”
Leo hesitated, then bowed his head. “Understood, boss.” He cast one last suspicious glance at Sienna before exiting the room.
Once the door clicked shut, Dante looked at Sienna. “Come here.”
Sienna crossed her arms, standing her ground. “Why? So you can interrogate me too?”
“If I thought you were a traitor, Sienna, you wouldn’t be standing,” Dante said softly. “Come here.”
Reluctantly, she walked to the edge of the bed.
Dante reached out with his uninjured arm, taking her cold wrist and pulling her gently until she had no choice but to sit on the edge of the mattress. He reached up, his fingers gently brushing away a smudge of dried blood from her cheek.
“You didn’t run,” he murmured, his thumb lingering on her skin. “When the shooting started, when I went down... you stayed.”
“I’m not a coward, Dante.”
“No,” he agreed, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her chest tighten. “You’re not. You’re the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. And that terrifies me.”
“Why would that terrify you?”
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“Because in my world, bravery gets people killed,” he whispered, his fingers sliding into her hair, pulling her down until their foreheads rested together. “And right now, I don’t think I can afford to lose you.”
***
