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Chapter Four: Dante

M arco wasn’t here anymore.

And the longer I waited, the longer she was out there.

Vulnerable. The Carusos could find her. They would kill her to get back at me, I knew that for sure.

I needed to find her first.

I swung my legs over the side of the hospital bed, the sterile white sheets crumpling beneath me. The IV stand beside me was an unwelcome anchor, its contents trickling into my veins with a persistence I had no patience for. “Doc,” I grumbled, fixing the surgeon with a steely glare that ordinarily commanded respect and instigated action, “I’m signing myself out.”

The surgeon, a middle-aged man with a face worn by years of saving lives and losing battles, didn’t flinch. He adjusted his glasses, as though buying time to frame his response. “Mr. Moretti, I can’t advise that. You were shot in the side. The bullet grazed vital organs. Walking out of here is not just against medical advice—it’s against common sense.”

“Well, it’s not your decision,” I scoffed, the sound rasping out from my throat. The discomfort of the wound was nothing compared to the itch under my skin, the need to move, to act. I couldn’t afford to be laid up here while my world spun on without me. My family, my... responsibilities needed attention. Immediate attention.

“Your body needs to heal,” the surgeon insisted, his voice firm but not unkind. “You risk infection, hemorrhaging—“

“Risk comes with the territory,” I interrupted, the words slicing through his well-intentioned warnings. I stood, swaying slightly, a hand pressing against the fresh stitches as if it could hold the pain inside. “I’ve faced worse.”

“Honestly, Mr. Moretti, that’s very sad,” he said with a reluctant sigh, “but this is one battle you don’t have to fight alone. Let us help you.”

In my line of work, help usually came with strings attached, favors to be repaid in blood or cash. But I saw the earnestness in his eyes, the genuine concern that I knew wasn’t feigned or bought. It was his job to care, and he did it well.

“Appreciate the sentiment, Doc,” I said, easing my tone to something less confrontational. “But the only way I heal is by getting back to business. By making sure my family’s safe.”

“Mr. Moretti,” he began again, but I cut him off with a raised hand, my decision etched in stone.

“Sign the papers. I’m leaving.”

He was about to say something else when the door swung open abruptly, and in strode Detective Rodriguez—his entrance slicing through the tension like a blade. He was an imposing silhouette against the afternoon light that fought its way through the blinds, his dark hair peppered with authority and experience.

“Doctor,” his voice boomed, leaving no room for negotiation, “I need to speak with Mr. Moretti alone.”

Rodriguez flashed the surgeon his badge briefly, just long enough for the doctor to register what the detective was asking him to do.

The surgeon hesitated, casting me a look that married concern with apology before nodding curtly and exiting the room. I watched him go, the fabric of his coat whispering farewell. Alone now with the detective, I felt the tightness in my chest ease into something resembling amusement.

“Rodriguez,” I greeted him, ignoring the dull throb at my side as I shifted in the bed to face him fully. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Think about your next words very carefully, Moretti,” he said. “Because you’re in a hospital bed and I’m not.”

He was right. And just like that, the room fell silent.

The silence thickened as Rodriguez pulled out a notepad, his movements meticulous and practiced. I watched him with a mix of annoyance and curiosity, my mind racing to anticipate his next move.

Rodriguez didn’t miss a beat, his expression unreadable as he met my gaze. “I’m here to ask you about the shooting, Dante. Who was it this time? Another family dispute or something more personal?”

“I’m not speaking to you without my attorney present.”

“The choice is yours, Moretti,” Rodriguez responded with a shrug, nonchalantly flipping through his notepad. “But let me remind you, an innocent man wouldn’t need a lawyer to tell the truth.”

“I know people on the force. I can stop you.”

“Please, try,” Rodriguez retorted, his voice echoing throughout the room with a vehemence that caught me slightly off-guard. “You’re a mob boss in New York City. I know some of my coworkers can be corrupt, but we’re all itching to take you down.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the underlying truth stark and binding. I was no innocent man. My hands had been stained long before I found myself at the wrong end of a gun barrel.

“And you’re a dog chasing its tail,” I shot back, my voice low and controlled. “How long has the NYPD been trying to pin something on my family, Detective? Years?”

“That’s right,” Rodriguez replied quickly, his eyes flashing with uncharacteristic fervor. “And I won’t stop until your empire is dismantled.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“Every bullet fired in this city has consequences. And sooner or later, they’ll lead back to your doorstep.”

“Is that a threat, Detective?” I challenged, but Rodriguez just shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could have been a smirk or a sneer—I couldn’t tell which.

“No threats, just facts. You know how the game is played, Dante. And this time, you’re going to tell me who’s dealing the cards.”

I pushed the wad of hospital sheets off my legs with an irritated grunt, the starchy fabric grating against my skin. The room was too bright, the hum of machines too loud, and Detective Rodriguez stood there like a damn statue, his cool demeanor only fueling the fire in my chest.

“Listen, you’ve got your badge and your gun, so why don’t you just cuff me and get it over with?” I barked, the sharp pain in my side punctuating each word.

Rodriguez’s lips barely twitched, but his eyes, those damn piercing orbs, drilled into mine. “Arresting you now would be too easy,” he said, voice steady as if we were discussing the weather instead of my freedom.

“Too easy?” I scoffed, shifting to sit up, ignoring the sear of protest from my wound. “Since when do cops care about taking the hard road?”

“Since it involved the Moretti family,” he shot back with a calm that scraped at my resolve.

“Ah, right. The grand quest to take us down.” My laugh came out as a harsh exhale. “Well, detective, while you’re on your noble crusade, people like me have real concerns—like family.”

He barked out a laugh. “Are you talking about your girlfriend? The one who couldn’t wait to get away from you? The one who literally escaped from an interrogation room so she wouldn’t have to see you again? Is that what you mean by family?”

“You’re way off base, Rodriguez.” I snapped, my voice dangerously low. “You don’t know a thing about Jade or what she means to me.”

Rodriguez’s smirk faded, replaced by a hard glare. “Oh, I think I understand perfectly. You’re just upset that your little science project didn’t work out the way you wanted.”

I was on my feet before I even realized it, standing tall despite the protest of my battered body. Rodriguez didn’t even flinch, just watched me with those icy eyes of his.

“Careful, Detective,” I warned, my voice barely more than a growl. “Don’t underestimate how quickly this conversation can turn.”

“As long as we’re trading threats,” he shot back, his tone frosty as he finally placed his notepad back in his pocket. “Just remember this; you’re not invincible, Moretti. And your reign over this city won’t last forever.”

“You think I’m scared of whatever you’ve got planned for me? I’ve stared down worse fates than a jail cell.”

“Is that so?” He stepped closer, invading my already limited space, his height casting a shadow across the bed. “Then you won’t mind sticking around the city for a while?”

“Try and stop me,” I challenged, meeting his gaze head-on, daring him to blink first.

A thread of relief wound through the tightness in my chest, but the knot didn’t fully unravel. I narrowed my eyes at Rodriguez, the familiar burn of frustration flaring up again as he stood there, a statue of authority.

“Fine,” he finally said, his voice carrying the weight of a gavel’s fall. “Stay in New York, Moretti. But keep one thing in mind—you step out of line, you so much as breathe suspiciously, and I’ll have you back here with cuffs tighter than those bandages.”

I wanted to lash out, to remind him that the world I lived in had no room for idle threats, but instead, I bit back the retort. My family—Jade, her condition, the life we could forge away from all this chaos—flickered in my vision like a distant lighthouse in stormy seas.

“Under investigation and surveillance, then? That’s your move?” I asked, the edge of defiance still sharp in my voice despite the underlying note of concession. The game was changing, and though I wasn’t about to fold, I recognized the need to play a smarter hand.

“Consider it a courtesy,” Rodriguez replied, his blue eyes glinting with the reflection of the bedside lamp, giving nothing away. “And remember, every kingpin falls eventually.”

“I’m grateful,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He rolled his eyes. “I know you aren’t,” he said. “But you should be. Because you can’t even begin to understand all the damage I can do.”

And just like that, he was gone.