Page 160 of Dante
I don't know when they started.
"Twenty-four years ago," Lorenzo continues, his voice steady, "Alejandro Mendoza was hired to eliminate a low-level soldato in Chicago. A man who had made enemies. A man with a wife. Two sons."
No.
"The job was supposed to be clean. Quick. But something went wrong. The target hid his oldest son before the team arrived. The gun jammed when they tried to finish the job."
No.
No.
"Dante."
I can't breathe.
"The man who killed your family," Lorenzo says. "Alejandro Mendoza."
I stand.
The movement is automatic. Instinctive. My body reacting before my mind can process what I've just heard.
The room tilts.
My wound screams.
I don't feel it.
I don't feel anything except the roaring in my ears and the memories flooding back?—
The closet door. The crack of light. My mother's scream cutting off mid-breath. Lucio. Lucio crying for mama. The gunshot. The silence. The footsteps coming closer. The gun against my temple. The click of the hammer. The jam.
"Dante."
A hand on my shoulder.
Nico.
I didn't hear him enter the room.
"You need to sit down," he says. "Now."
His grip is firm. Not aggressive. Grounding.
I sit.
My legs give out more than I choose to lower myself.
The leather catches me.
I stare at the floor.
"That doesn't make sense."
My voice sounds wrong. Distant. Like it's coming from somewhere outside my body.
"Giuseppe told me he found them." I look up at Lorenzo. "He said he found the men responsible. We went there. I killed him. I killed the bastard who murdered my family."
I was eighteen.
