Page 17 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

It made for a confusing mess.

Dante headed into the office without even knocking. Lucian already had set himself on the edge of the desk like he had been before. In his hands, he toyed with the gun and bullets. He barely spared Dante’s entrance a glance. Dante didn’t mind.

It was all about appearances, now.

Calisto stood silent in the corner with his arms folded over his chest. He gave Dante a subtle nod, but nothing more. Really, regardless of what Dante said, he did respect the Donati boss. After all, the man had brought his son here not knowing what was going to happen to him, or what Dante might do.

The young man of the hour—Cross—sat in the middle of the office on a metal folding chair. His gaze stayed on Lucian and the gun. There wasn’t fear in his eyes, Dante noticed, but some people were just good at hiding it. The fact Cross wouldn’t look away from Lucian’s gun said a lot that he wasn’t showing physically.

The kid was not stupid.

One couldn’t be in this life.

Dante moved across the room, grabbed the one other folding chair, and set it up. Right in front of Cross’s chair. He made sure to turn his around, so he could straddle it and set his arms over the back. That way, Cross’s gaze was only on him.

Well, apparently him and the gun.

Dante hid his smirk as Cross’s attention drifted between Dante, and Lucian. A subtle shift that said he wanted to know what was going to happen with that gun, but wasn’t willing to ask.

For a long while, Dante simply stared at Cross before he quietly said, “Explain yourself.”

Cross cocked a brow.

Dante’s irritation with the kid picked up again at the sight. Like a flash of anger spiking hot and hard in his gut. A simple show of disrespect when the kid could just talk like he had been told to.

Instead of giving a proper answer, Cross said, “Be specific.”

Dante’s jaw ached from how hard he clenched his teeth at that response. “You have very little respect for better men, Cross. Let me explain this to you, so that you understand from here on out. When a better man demands something in this life, you jump through fire to give him what he wants.”

“Define better.”

Cross didn’t even balk after the words left his mouth. He didn’t blink or flinch or think about it. He just opened his mouth and let stupid shit come out of it.

Too arrogant.

Too difficult.

Too cocky.

Too … everything.

This boy was never going to live to see his eighteenth birthday, Dante was sure of it. Cross didn’t understand how death was staring him right in the face, and was ready to pull the trigger.

Maybe he had a death wish.

Maybe he had no concept of death.

No understanding of real fear.

Dante didn’t know what it was, but it irked him like nothing else. Every single little thing about Cross Donati got under his skin in the worst way. Had this boy been his son, he would have made sure the kid understood the true meaning of respect.

But he wasn’t his boy.

He was someone else’s son.

Dante dropped a hand, and put his palm up. “Lucian.”

His brother handed over the gun without a word.