Page 146 of Vow Of Fire

“These are incredible,” I admitted honestly as I studied a dramatic oil painting of Manhattan at dusk. “Why haven’t you exhibited?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m too old for that nonsense now.”

“No,” I said, turning toward him. “I mean it. The composition alone⁠—”

“My son was the talented one.”

The quiet interruption caught me off guard.

“Filippo?”

Leo nodded slowly, his gaze drifting toward a charcoal portrait hanging near the window. A handsome dark-haired man stared back at me with Dante’s gray eyes.

“He had real talent,” Leo said softly. “Studied art history at Columbia. Painted too. Better than me.”

“What happened?”

Something shuttered behind the old man’s expression.

“He became heir.”

Ah.

“He didn’t have time for art after that?” I asked carefully.

Leo let out a humorless chuckle. “No. Men like us rarely get the luxury of pursuing beauty for beauty’s sake.” The sadness in his voice surprised me. “It’s the life. Nobody gets out.”

The words had an ominous feel to them and I looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

For a while we stood in silence, the rain ticking against the skylight. Then Leo spoke again, his focus lingering on a small, unframed canvas turned to face the wall.

“Has he told you about the war?”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t talk about it.”

“No. He wouldn’t.” The old man lowered himself onto a paint-flecked stool, suddenly looking every one of his years. “In the Rangers, his unit called themselves Ghost Company. Dante led them. He loved those men like brothers.”

I stayed very still, afraid that if I moved, he’d stop talking, and I wanted to hear this. I wanted to understand what Dante wouldn’t say.

“On their last deployment, his commanding officer ordered a strike. It was based on bad intel, or a lie. They were never sure which. The target was meant to be insurgents.” Leo’s jaw tightened. “Instead, it was a local community center. Women. Children. Civilians who had done nothing wrong.”

My stomach turned over.

“Dante tried to stop it, but he was too late. He took a bullet trying to protect them.” I thought of the silver scar Dante had inked over rather than hide, the bullet hole he wore where he’d be forced to see it every day.

“When the Army went looking for someone to blame, they didn’t choose the officer who gave the order. They chose Dante and his men.” He almost spat out the words. “Going rogue, they called it. Killing innocents.”

“That’s…” I couldn’t find a word strong enough to describe the injustice. Monstrous didn’t even begin to cover it.

“He came home after that a different person,” he finished.

“Why are you telling me this?” I whispered, my heart breaking for Dante. For the young man he was when he left for war, and the damaged one he was when he returned.

“Because he never will.” Leo’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “And I’m glad he’s got you. You’re good for him.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. Except he didn’t have me. Not anymore. He’d discarded me like a used dishrag that he no longer needed.

“Leo, I think you should know that we’re not…” I trailed off helplessly.