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5

DANTE

T he early morning videoconference with Admiral and Grit cast blue light across my spartan motel room. The sun had just risen over Gloversville, and my third cup of coffee sat cooling on the nightstand, untouched. Through the laptop screen, I could see them in the boathouse at Canada Lake.

“Walk us through your concerns,” Admiral said, adjusting his camera to show a detailed map of the property. Behind him, the lake stretched, calm and pristine, through the windows, a deceptive serenity that only heightened my unease.

“With Vincent in jail and the family’s operations being dismantled, I thought the immediate danger was contained,” I said, running a hand through my hair. The admission tasted bitter. “That was naive.”

“You couldn’t have anticipated every threat,” Admiral said, but I knew better.

“I should have. These people don’t just disappear because their leader’s locked up. More, rival families have been waiting for the day the Castellano organization was taken down. They’ll be vying for every inch of territory they can get their hands on.”

I stood and paced the length of the motel room, its dated carpet doing little to muffle my footsteps. The familiar sound reminded me of the endless nights spent planning operations and gathering intelligence. “Some have been in this life for generations. They don’t know anything else. The criminal mindset is embedded in their DNA.”

Grit moved into frame, leaning against one of the boathouse’s support beams. “I’m staying put here, at the camp, for the time being. You should also know that K19 Sentinel Cyber is setting up a command center in the boathouse again. We’ll have round-the-clock surveillance, thermal imaging, motion sensors, access to overheads—the works.” He paused, studying me through the screen. “Tell me what else you’re thinking, Dante.”

I stopped pacing, bracing my hands on the motel room’s desk. “My family destroyed lives all over the place, but here in Gloversville, it was like they did in the entire town. Burned down businesses, broke people who tried to stand up to them. I won’t let that happen again. Not to Lark and not to her grandmother.”

“Just so you’re aware, Doc and Merrigan are on board,” Admiral added. “Everyone agrees—we can’t let another version of the organization rise from the ashes. The DOJ’s providing full backing to prevent exactly that. Whatever resources we need, we’ve got them.” He glanced up at his camera. “But that’s not what’s really eating at you, is it?”

I studied the world outside the motel window, remembering countless family “business meetings” held on similar properties. How many times had my father and brother used isolation as a weapon—sometimes even with me? “We need to make sure Mrs. Gregory is comfortable. She’s already lost so much to my family’s machinations.”

Both men knew my history, knew the price I’d paid to bring down those closest to me.

“You care about them,” Grit said quietly. “Both of them.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. “I’ll be in touch. We should be there in a couple of hours.”

Before Lark’s call about the vandalism last night, I’d thought about making the drive back to Manhattan. I’d also thought about heading up to Canada Lake. After she made contact, I was glad I hadn’t done either. I’d holed up in an all-night restaurant, then booked a room at the adjacent Gloversville Motor Lodge, coordinating security teams to watch both the shop and her house through the night. The footage showed exactly what Lark feared—someone had marked their territory, sending a message. “We know what happened that night, and you will pay.” What did it mean? Something in my gut told me Lark didn’t know any more than I did.

Now, the motel room felt claustrophobic, its dated décor and musty smell a far cry from the luxury I’d grown up with. But it offered a clear view of Main Street, where the empty storefronts stood as silent testimony to the destruction I’d just talked about. Each vacant window, each faded sign, felt like an accusation.

My phone buzzed with updates from our surveillance teams. Another report from Tank, who was meeting me here before we headed to the Gregory house. Everything was proceeding according to plan, but it didn’t ease the knot in my gut. Getting them to Canada Lake would help keep them safe, but that I couldn’t be there with Lark once the trial got underway ate away at me.

I also couldn’t be here, where I feared the threat was more against me than her. The people who wanted me dead figured she was the easiest way to get to me. If they took her, I’d offer myself in trade. Or I got her to safety, then let the showdown begin. However, my time wasn’t my own. It wouldn’t be until the verdict came in and Vincent Castellano Jr. was sentenced to life without parole. If he lived that long. There were plenty of people locked up where he’d be headed who’d want him dead too. That I didn’t care was evidence of the wedge that grew between Vincent and me. Of how much I hated everything he stood for.

I’d given him one chance, not that he’d known what it was. Had he told me where my mother was being held, if she was still alive, I probably would’ve continued my life of crime, answering when he called, executing his demands of me that were delivered no differently than they were to anyone else who worked for him. He’d made it clear to everyone that I wasn’t special. Blood didn’t matter as much as loyalty and, above all else, carrying out his orders.

Had he had a reason, he would’ve killed me or had me killed in the same way so many others who’d let him down had been.

Was the suspicious vehicle circling both the Gregory house and shop a warning not to testify? If so, it was much too late for that, not that Vincent knew it. The DOJ had all the proof they needed to convict him on every count he’d been charged with. Even if he succeeded in having me killed, it wouldn’t change his future.

On the other hand, the Castellano organization was like a hydra—cut off one head, and two more could emerge if you weren’t vigilant. What I hadn’t been prepared for was how quickly it would happen. I’d believed we’d have time to dismantle the existing framework enough and make sweeping arrests, that there’d be nothing left when the don apparent rose from the ashes. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I got an alert that Tank had arrived right on schedule, as usual. His expression was grim when we reviewed the overnight reports together.

“Security teams noticed some suspicious activity around zero three hundred,” he said. “Nothing direct, but?—”

“Enough to make it obvious they’re testing our response times.” I recognized the pattern. A familiar dance of predator and prey. “What have you found on the vehicle?”

“Stolen plates. Professional job.” Tank’s jaw tightened. “As you know, these aren’t amateurs.”

We drove through the misty morning in tense silence, both of us hyperaware of our surroundings. Every intersection, every alleyway represented a potential threat. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as memories of similar escorts flooded back—though then, I’d been the threat, not the protection.

“Do you think Lark and her grandmother will come along willingly?” Tank asked.

“They have no choice,” I replied, my voice rougher than intended. “The alternative…” I let the words hang there, unwilling to voice my fears.

We pulled up to the Gregory house, where two SUVs waited in convoy formation. Through the glare of the morning sun, Lark emerged onto the porch, her white-blonde hair catching the light. The sight of her made my chest tight—both with relief that she was safe and fear for what could happen if we didn’t get her and her grandmother away from here soon.

She wore jeans and a simple sweater but carried herself with the same quiet dignity she always did. Behind her, I could see Mrs. Gregory through the window, methodically packing kitchen items.

“Everything’s ready,” Tank reported, checking in with the security team already in place. “Perimeter’s clear. Two-vehicle escort, with a third running surveillance.”

“I need my car,” said Lark, her voice carrying across the damp morning air. “To get back and forth to Gloversville each day.”

“Not happening.” The words came out harsh, my fear overriding diplomacy. “The shop needs to close temporarily.”

”Like hell, it does,” she shot back, descending the porch steps with fierce determination. “That shop is all we have left of our family’s legacy. I won’t let anyone—especially not a Castellano—tell me when to close it.”

“I’ll repeat. You cannot keep it open.”

Her eyes flashed. “You don’t get to make that decision.”

“Lark—” I took a step toward her, fighting the urge to reach for her, to make her understand the danger she was in.

“No.” She backed away, arms crossed. “I see what’s happening here. You’re just like them—like your father, like your brother. Trying to control everything, everyone.”

The accusation hit like a sucker punch. Being compared to my father and Vincent—it was everything I’d fought against. “That’s not what this is.”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing, a Castellano is once again trying to tell me what to do with my family’s business.” She turned and stormed inside. I followed and watched her race upstairs, each step an angry punctuation mark.

“This isn’t good,” Tank, who’d followed us inside, muttered under his breath.

Before I could respond, Mrs. Gregory approached, brandishing her cane. “A word, Mr. Castellano.”

She led me into the kitchen, positioning herself between me and the door. My eyes were immediately drawn to the determined set of her jaw—so like Lark’s.

“What are your intentions with my granddaughter?” she blurted.

“To keep her safe.”

“What else?”

“That’s what is most important.”

She tapped her cane on the floor repeatedly. “But there’s more. Either tell me the truth, or I’ll…” She lifted the thing that looked more like an instrument of terror than something she relied on to keep her steady as she walked.

Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe her unwavering glare broke through my defenses, but I couldn’t hold back.

“Can you, uh, put that down, and can we maybe take a seat?”

She sneered at me, but it was evident her anger was already enough to exhaust her even without the added physical exertion. “Start talking, Castellano .”

“Look, you might not believe this, but I fell for Lark the first time I saw her.”

“Of course you did. She’s a beautiful, innocent girl like her mother.”

I shook my head. “There’s more to my feelings; there has been right from the start. Yes, she is beautiful, but it was her aura that reminded me—” I stopped myself. I’d almost gone too far.

“Of who?” Mrs. Gregory asked, leaning forward like a snake about to strike.

“My mother.” I spoke the words so quietly, hoping she didn’t hear. No such luck.

“Amelia,” she said, whispering.

“How do you know her name?”

“I remember seeing the wedding announcement.” She answered too quickly, looking off in the distance. “She was beautiful. And you’re right, Lark looks a lot like her.” Her eyes met mine. “Oedipus complex, Alessandro?” she said with a smirk and a wink.

I shook my head and chuckled. Apparently, Mrs. Gregory had a wicked sense of humor, and I was happy to have the chance to see it.

“What made you turn on your family?” she blurted like when she’d asked about my intentions.

“Many things, but mainly, her.”

“What happened?”

“She said she was going on a trip…”

“How old were you?”

“Six. I never heard from her again. Years later, after our father died, my brother told me she was safe, but he wouldn’t tell me where.”

She nodded slowly. “I see.”

My words caught as I described our last goodbye, not knowing it would be final.

“Ah.” Her expression softened. “Now, that sounds more like the truth.” A shadow crossed her face. “Lark’s mother left too. The pain never quite heals.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be honest.” She gestured upstairs. “Tell her what you told me. Leave the machismo behind—no woman likes that.”

“I can do that.”

“Can you?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She leaned against the chair. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

I raised a brow.

“Up the stairs, third door on your left.”