Page 228 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet

Mama was in New York and Beau.

My job.

Which was, apparently, waiting for me should I ever return.

But there was one solid, unconquerable reason we couldn’t go back to New York.

Dante would go to prison as soon as they discovered he’d returned to the country.

He watched my thoughts work behind my eyes, his own face set like stone.

It made him look like Alexander. Terrifyingly cold.

“And what’s your plan? Stay locked up somewhere like you’re on house arrest again because the moment someone reports that you’re back in the country, they’ll hunt you down and take you straight to jail?”

I knew that wasn’t the plan.

Dante was a wild beast of a man. Voluntarily going back into a cage went against his nature.

“Not quite.” His sigh was bitter against my face as he cupped my cheeks. “I’m going to turn myself in.”

Every atom of my body froze.

Suspended animation triggered by the overwhelming shock and fury that hit me like a nuclear blast.

Finally, the rage cut through the disbelief.

“Are you fuckingkiddingme?” I asked quietly because it was hard to speak when anger was buzzing through every inch of me.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he tried to reason.

As if there was anything reasonable about this stupid plan.

I lurched to my feet because touching him when I felt as if I hated him was too much. My body jerked as rage ate at me, devouring me whole.

“You are not turning yourself in.”

“Lena, if you would just listen for a moment—”

“No.”

“Just—”

“Absolutelynot.”

“Elena,” he finally barked, surging to his feet himself so that we were pressed nearly chest to chest. “Our Family is under attack. I’m not going to leave them to fend for themselves.”

“What the hell was all that with Rocco and winning back Napoli then? We did that to get reinforcements to help out in New York.”

“They need their capo,” he asserted with that absolute arrogance, totalitarian dictatorship that was bred from being born the second son of a dukeandfrom being an Italian mafioso.

“Well, so doI!” I shouted.

His fury flickered then went out as he tried to reach for me. I stepped away, unable to bear it.

“Sono con te, lottatice mia,” he reminded me, “anche quando non lo sono.”

I am with you, my fighter, even when I am not.