Page 111 of Dante

“Dante!”

Gina jumps up from the sofa the moment I enter the apartment, her face bright, eyes shining.

“You’ll never guess,” she says, breathless. “I just got word. I’m one of five finalists in the Academy competition.”

For a second, I let myself absorb the sight of her like this—alive, excited, untouched.

“Congratulations,” I say, stepping forward and kissing her forehead.

She searches my face. “You’re upset,” she says.

Nothing escapes her.

“Come here,” I say quietly, taking her hand and guiding her back to the sofa.

She sits slowly. Her smile fades. “What is it?”

I don’t ease into it. “Thomas is dead.”

Her breath catches. “From his thigh injury?”

“No.” I hold her gaze. “I ordered him killed.”

She stares at me as if I’ve struck her. “Why?” she whispers.

“He was part of the ambush. Working with the enemy.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. She swallows hard. She’s quiet for a long time. “He seemed loyal,” she finally says.

“He was,” I answer. “Until someone offered him more.”

“More?”

“More money. More power. Greed has no bounds.”

“Will this ever end?” she asks. “Do I have to look over my shoulder every time I leave the apartment?”

“For now,” I say. “Yes.”

She studies me carefully. “So what Angie said at the museum party was true.”

“What did she say?”

“That you had declared war on the old ways. That men like Silvio wouldn’t accept it quietly.”

I don’t answer immediately. “Some men believe fear is the only language that works.”

“And you don’t?”

“I believe control is stronger when it doesn’t rely on chaos.”

Her eyes search mine. “So this is about power.”

“It’s always about power,” I agree. “The question is how you choose to hold it.”

She thinks again for a long moment. “And which are you choosing?” she asks quietly.

“The future.”