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7

DANTE

T he drive to Canada Lake felt longer than it should have, each mile marked by the weight of things unsaid. From the corner of my eye, I watched Lark stare out the window, her face reflected against the passing landscape. The flooding of her shop had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. I recognized the look in her eyes—the same one I’d seen in the mirror countless times when I felt as though everything I held dear was being stripped away piece by piece.

“All those records, the history…” she said from the passenger seat as though she was having a conversation with herself while I drove.

“I’ve got people working on it,” I assured her, though I knew if the safe wasn’t waterproof, the damage would be extensive. Water and paper were natural enemies. “As soon as the utility company gives the all clear, we’ll salvage what we can.”

She nodded but didn’t respond. Her family had already lost so much to mine. Now, here we were again, generations later, and once more, a Castellano was at the center of her world falling apart. The similarities weren’t lost on me.

It seemed that, from his jail cell, Vincent’s shadow still loomed over everything. It was almost like he continued running the family, orchestrating events from behind bars. Was this his way of getting revenge—not by coming after me directly, but by targeting someone he’d already figured out meant something to me? The thought made my jaw clench. My brother had always known exactly where to strike to cause the most damage. He’d proven that when our mother disappeared and he refused to tell me where she was.

My phone buzzed with an update from the team still at her house. Mrs. Gregory was safely in the second vehicle, her clothes packed, and all medications accounted for. At least something was going right.

“You should have told me about the letters sooner,” I said quietly, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

She lifted her chin slightly. “Why would I have? Because I danced with you at a wedding?” She shook her head. “Look, I know we need, err, help. After what happened…” She paused, collecting herself. “The coffee shop has been my responsibility since I returned to live in Gloversville.”

“I understand that, but?—”

“Let me finish,” she said, her voice steady and proud. “I’m not being stubborn about accepting assistance. Not anymore. But I need you to understand that my grandmother witnessed her parents having to start over. They lost everything—their entire livelihood. The people who worked for them lost everything too. Somehow, they survived. Like them, we’ll pull through. But not as victims who need someone else to fix it for us. We’re not helpless.”

The quiet strength in her voice struck me. She wasn’t refusing help out of spite or fear; she was establishing boundaries, making it clear that accepting protection didn’t mean surrendering her dignity.

I focused on the road ahead, letting her words settle between us. She was right, of course. Leaning on me required trust that would have to be earned, and here I was, about to leave for New York City just when she and her grandmother were most vulnerable.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, forcing myself to breathe slowly. Every instinct screamed at me to take control, to orchestrate a plan to keep her safe. But that path led exactly where she feared—to becoming what I’d spent years fighting against, feeling as though I was somehow entitled to manipulate the lives of others.

“What would that look like?” I finally asked. “Helping you instead of trying to take control?”

She was quiet for a long moment, and I wondered if I’d somehow made things worse. Then she shifted forward slightly in her seat. “It would start with you telling me the truth. About the severity of the threats, what I’m really facing, and why you’re so convinced my grandmother and I are in danger.”

“Some of that information could put you at greater risk.”

“I’m already there, Alessandro,” she pointed out. “I want to know what I’m up against.”

She had a point, even if admitting it felt like swallowing broken glass. “Okay,” I said finally. “But this goes both ways. No more hiding letters or pretending everything’s fine when it isn’t.”

“Let’s start with you telling me exactly what you think is going on with the coffee shop.”

I checked the rearview mirror again, this time out of habit rather than immediate concern. Other than our own caravan following behind us, the road remained clear as we wound through increasingly dense forest. “Someone’s sending a message I don’t understand,” I said. “Do you know what it means?”

“If you’re referring to the part that says, ‘We know what happened that night,’ I do not.”

“What about your grandmother?”

“I haven’t asked.”

I nodded, biting my tongue against asking why she hadn’t when that seemed to be the most logical thing to do. “The flood sent a message of its own.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone is making it clear they can get to you whenever they want.” I scrubbed my face, wondering if this was Vincent’s doing. Was he creating a smokescreen to confuse me? Sending us down a rabbit hole when what we should be doing was focusing every effort on making sure every charge against him stuck.

“It could be my brother’s doing.”

“Do you really think he has something to do with the letters and our basement flooding?”

“Maybe.” I owed her honesty, even if it meant admitting I had no idea what the message meant.

“The shop is so much more than a place to get a cup of coffee or tea. My grandmother built something from the ashes of what your family destroyed. It serves as a symbol of resilience. Refusing to be beaten.”

“You’re right,” I said, turning onto the final stretch leading to Canada Lake, where the trees opened up to reveal glimpses of water in the afternoon light.

“After everything that happened with the factory, she still found a way to create something meaningful. Something that speaks both to today’s community but also to the city’s history,” she continued.

Her words reminded me of the safe and its contents. As soon as we arrived at the camp, I’d check in with the guys still there to see if there had been any luck getting to it. “I hate that our family destroyed so much of Gloversville and that, even now, they continue to do so.”

“If this is your brother’s doing, I honestly can’t understand why he’d bother. The fire was decades ago. Gram was six years old when it happened. It isn’t like she poses some kind of threat. As far as the city itself, Gloversville began its economic decline long before the fire. That hurt our family personally more than it did the area’s economy.”

“Earlier, I was thinking there’s a chance it’s a smokescreen designed to distract me.”

She thought it over for a minute, then nodded. “You and your brother…”

“Don’t see eye to eye?” I chuckled, but not because I thought it was funny. “Long before he found out I became an informant for the DOJ, he hated me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never known for sure. Maybe because, until I came along, he was an only child. He turned thirteen a couple of weeks before I was born, and probably never considered he’d have a sibling.”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Thirty-two.”

“Six years older than me.” I watched as she counted on her fingers. “Your brother and my mom are the same age.”

“Wow,” I said under my breath. “It’s weird to think about in those terms. It’s like he and I are from different generations.”

She absorbed this in silence as we pulled up to the camp’s gates. Security teams were already in position—discrete but thorough, exactly as I’d requested, again not wanting Lark and her grandmother to feel as though they were prisoners like my brother was.

“I still want to keep the shop open as much as possible,” she said as we parked. It wasn’t a question or a demand, just a simple statement of fact.

“I know.” I turned to face her fully. “We’ll figure it out. That’s a promise. But first, let’s get you and your grandmother settled.”

She studied me for another long moment, her blue eyes searching mine for something—truth, maybe, or proof that I was different from the other Castellanos who’d tried to control her family’s fate.

“Okay,” she said finally. “But no more unilateral decisions on my behalf.”

I nodded, knowing I’d just made a promise I might not be able to keep. Because while I wanted to be honest with her, to treat her as an equal, some decisions had to be made in the moment, some choices couldn’t wait for discussion or debate. If it came down to her safety or her autonomy, I wasn’t sure I could choose the latter. The question was, when this was all over, would she understand why?

The great camp emerged from the afternoon shadows like something from another world. Built in the grand Adirondack style, its massive logs and sweeping rooflines spoke of old money and quiet power. Stone chimneys rose above the tree line, and wraparound porches offered views of the lake from every angle. Despite everything that had happened today, the familiar outline of the camp brought a sense of comfort. It had been a sanctuary during Admiral and Alice’s wedding, and now, it would serve as one again.

“Welcome back,” Alice called from the front steps, hurrying down to meet us as we pulled up. She wrapped Lark in a tight hug.

The second vehicle, carrying Mrs. Gregory, arrived moments later. “Well, this is quite something,” she declared as Tank helped her from the car, waving off further assistance with her cane.

“Wait until you see inside, and welcome,” Alice said warmly, moving to greet her. Admiral was right behind her, embracing both Lark and her grandmother.

“I’m not an invalid,” she spat at Tank, although I noticed she didn’t refuse to take the arm he offered. While her cane provided some balance, the ground was uneven enough to be precarious.

“Let me show you where you’ll be staying,” Alice continued, leading us inside. The main floor opened into the familiar great room dominated by a massive stone fireplace with a hearth large enough to stand in. Exposed beams crossed the ceiling, and comfortable furniture in rich leather and warm fabrics created intimate seating areas throughout the space.

“The lower level has its own entrance and kitchen,” Alice explained, motioning to a wide staircase. “Plus a private patio overlooking the lake. I thought you might like having your own space.”

Instead of Alice leading us down the stairs, Admiral motioned to a doorway I hadn’t noticed when I was here before. When an elevator was revealed, I waited for Mrs. Gregory’s reaction, covering my mouth with my hand to hide my smile when she scoffed but got inside anyway when Admiral motioned for her to follow.

As Alice had said, the lower level, which I hadn’t seen before, proved to be a completely self-contained living area, with the same attention to craftsmanship as above. Large windows brought in the natural light and lake views, while thick stone walls promised privacy and security.

“We don’t need the entire floor,” said Lark, but Alice waved her off.

“Nonsense. You’re family.” She squeezed Lark’s hand. “Besides, this way, you can come and go as you please without disturbing anyone upstairs.”

I watched Lark’s grandmother explore the space, noting how she tested the firmness of furniture and ran her hands along the smooth wooden surfaces. Her expression softened when she discovered the kitchen was already stocked with familiar items from her home, beaming when Lark pulled out a wooden spoon and set it on the counter.

“What’s that about?” Admiral asked.

I shrugged. “No idea.”

“I hope she doesn’t plan to hit me with it,” he joked.

Mrs. Gregory turned her head to look at him. “You should also know I have excellent hearing, young man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

“You’ve thought of everything,” Lark said with a wobble in her voice.

“Not everything,” Alice responded. “But we’re working on it. Mrs. Gregory, why don’t I show you your bedroom while the guys bring in your bags?”

“You can call me Barbara, dear.”

As they disappeared down a hallway, I heard the older woman asking about the kitchen’s setup and whether she’d be able to make her sauce here. Alice’s enthusiastic response faded as they moved farther away.

“She’ll be okay,” Tank said quietly. “They both will.”

I nodded, but my attention was on Lark, who stood at the windows, staring out at the lake. The afternoon sun caught her hair, creating that familiar halo effect that had first caught my eye at Method Tea and Coffee.

“I need to head back to the city soon,” I said, standing beside her. “The trial starts tomorrow.”

“I know.” She kept her gaze on the water.

“I’ll have my phone. If anything happens?—”

“There will be lots of people here, keeping us safe,” she interrupted quietly.

I wanted to say more, to somehow bridge the rift between us, but anything I could say would feel like pushing too hard, too fast. Instead, I just nodded.

“So, um, good luck with the trial,” she added, finally glancing my way. “What you’re doing—testifying against your brother—I know it can’t be easy.”

The simple acknowledgment caught me off guard. “Thank you,” I managed, stepping closer, enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo. “My brother needs to pay for what he’s done. To your family and to countless others. Until that happens, until he’s locked away where he can’t hurt anyone else, none of us are truly safe.”

She was quiet for several seconds, studying my face as if searching for something. Finally, she nodded. “Be careful.”

“I will.” I allowed myself to reach up and brush a strand of hair from her face. “That’s why I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Trust Alice and the security team. Don’t try to handle anything alone.” I let my hand drop. “I know you’re strong, Lark. But sometimes, strength means knowing when to accept help.”

“We already talked about this, Alessandro, and I told you I would.” There was no harshness in her tone, just reassurance. She turned away to join Alice and her grandmother down the hall.

Tank was waiting by the stairs. “When do we need to get on the road?” he asked.

“My flight out of Albany is in two hours.”

I took one last look toward where Lark had disappeared, then headed up to the main level, dreading the trial that loomed ahead of me—the days or weeks of facing my brother’s venom in the courtroom. More, I hated that I was leaving two women behind who had every reason not to trust me, but whose safety had somehow become more important than my own.

An alert appeared on my phone. Got the safe out. Looks like it was watertight. No damage.

Fantastic news, I responded.

Removing the rest of what was stored. Where should we take it?

My first inclination was to say to bring it here, but that would be a unilateral decision made without asking Lark her opinion. “Hold up,” I said to Tank before racing downstairs to deliver the news.

I rapped on the partially open bedroom door. “I have news,” I said when she pulled it open and her eyes widened. “The safe has been recovered. No damage.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“One of the crew still in Gloversville asked where to take the rest of the things recovered.”

“Err, I’m not sure. That safe is huge. Maybe they could just remove the contents. Then, I don’t know. Maybe take it to Gram’s house?”

“Would you rather they bring it here?”

She cocked her head and grinned. “This is really hard for you, isn’t it?”

I smiled. “Honestly, torturous.”

“So, if I allowed you to make the decision, what would you recommend?”

“It would be safe here.”

“Good thinking, Alessandro. I agree. See? That wasn’t so bad.”

I shook my head and chuckled. “Is it keyed or combination?” I asked.

“Both.” She gave me the code and told me where they could find the key, then surprised me by stepping forward and pressing a light kiss to my cheek. “Be safe,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “And come back.”

I stood frozen for a moment, the warmth of her lips lingering on my skin. By the time I found my voice, she had already turned away, moving to rejoin Alice’s and her grandmother’s voices down the hall. There were so many things I wanted to say, but the right words escaped me. Instead, I returned to the main level and followed Tank out to the SUV.