what to say."
"You don't have to say anything."
"But I do."
Men exited the house, starting to leave, to handle business or clean up or do whatever the hell they needed to do to fix what had happened in that ballroom. A lot of bitter, grief-stricken soldiers would be running the streets of Manhattan now without anyone to control them.
Dante tensed when Moretti stalled in front of him. "My condolences."
Unwelcome tears stung Dante's eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Your father," Moretti said. "I gave him a choice, but he didn't take it. He forced my hand."
"You're offering condolences over a man you killed?"
"Regardless of the circumstances, it's always regretful when a son loses his father."
Dante was stunned. "Thank you."
Moretti nodded as he turned to Gavin. "Tell him."
Gavin said nothing in response.
"I'm serious, Amaro," Moretti said. "You tell him or I'll tell him myself, and none of us want that to happen."
Gavin covered his face with his hands, muttering, "I'm going to tell him."
Dante watched Moretti leave, silence surrounding them again.
"Look, Dante…"
Dante got to his feet, wanting to get out of there. "Whatever it is, you don't have to say anything."
"But I do." Gavin stood up. "For one, because if he has to come back and tell you himself, he'll probably shoot me, but more so because I just… I have to. I have to tell you. You deserve to know. Hell, I should've told you a long time ago. I should've let Gabby tell you when she wanted to. But I, uh… I don't know how you're going to take it. I don't know, maybe you'll be happy. You don't have a gun on you, right?"
Dante turned to Gavin. "Just tell me."
"Your sister," Gavin said.
Silence.
"My sister," Dante repeated. "That's it? That's what you have to tell me?"
"Yes," Gavin said. "Well, no. Your sister… she, well…"
"Christ, Gavin, spit it out."
"She wasn't in the car that night. When it exploded. Your sister wasn't inside of it."
Dante stared at him. "You think I don't know that?"
"What?"
"I'm not an idiot, Gavin. I graduated high school. I took a fucking science class. There would've been something left if they would've been inside. There were no bodies in that car. I know."
"What?"
"Besides, the car had a remote starter. Bert said he wired it to go off exactly like the one that killed Joey. My father insisted. So it would've been triggered as soon as he hit the button."
"I, uh… what?"
Dante sighed exasperatedly, running his hands down his face. "Say what one more time, Gavin. One more fucking time."
"I'm sorry, I'm just… why didn't you say anything?"
"What's there to say? She wasn't in the car, but she isn't here, either. Something has kept her away, and that something probably means I'll never see her again… not in this life, anyway. And no offense, because you're not a bad guy, as far as guys go, but I'm not really down with the bearing my soul to another fucking man thing."
Dante walked back into the house, done with that conversation, but Gavin's voice caught him, trailing him, not letting go. "I know."
"Know what, Amaro?"
"Where she is."
Dante skidded to a stop and swung around. "You know where she is?"
Hesitantly, Gavin nodded. "Or, well, I knew where she was. They're not there anymore."
"They?"
"Her… Matty… the baby…"
Dante's blood ran cold. "The baby?"
"Yeah, I mean, she hasn't had the baby yet. She's still pregnant. Or she was, last time I saw her."
"Whoa… you saw her? You've seen her?"
Gavin nodded again.
"Alive?"
Another nod.
"You're telling me my sister is alive, and not only did you know, but you knew exactly where to find her?"
One more nod.
Dante's calm slipped, something inside of him breaking. The emotion he'd been holding back, forcing down, came flooding through the cracks. His vision blurred. His hands shook. The second a tear slipped down his cheek, he swung.
CRACK
Chapter Twenty-Two
The first time Gabriella laid eyes on Dante, lying comatose in the hospital bed, she had a thought: for someone with such a big reputation, he seemed so small. People spoke of him like he was larger than life, but there he was, this fragile human, with a broken body and a shattered soul, desperately needing to be healed.
It took days before he smiled, weeks before he laughed, months before he loved, but once he did, she believed there was no stopping him again. He'd grown ten feet and his skin became steel, and the fragmented boy seemed almost whole, turning superhuman. He risked his life, moving fast as a speeding bullet, running into burning buildings and standing up