Page 165 of Dante
"Dante—"
"No. Listen to me." I stand. Pace. "You're telling me Alejandro Mendoza has known for eighteen years that I killed his cousin. That he's been watching me. Waiting. Planning."
"Yes."
"Then why am I still alive?"
Lorenzo opens his mouth.
Closes it.
"They could have ended me a hundred times," I continue. "A thousand times. I've been exposed. Vulnerable. I've walked into situations alone. I've slept in hotels with minimal security. I've driven through territories where the Sartoris have no reach."
I stop pacing.
Turn to face them both.
"That's not how people in our world operate. You don't wait eighteen years for revenge. You don't build an empire and bide your time while the man who killed your blood walks free. You eliminate the threat. You send a message. You make an example."
Nico's expression shifts.
"Dante's right." Nico uncrosses his arms. "The timeline doesn't work. If Alejandro knew Dante killed Diego, he would have acted years ago. Decades ago. The cartel had the resources. The reach. They could have taken Dante out before he ever became valuable to us."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying Alejandro didn't know." I meet Lorenzo's eyes. "Not until recently. Something changed. Something tipped him off."
Lorenzo runs a hand through his hair.
"Webb," he says slowly. "Webb was placed here three months ago. The debt was manufactured. The trap was set."
"Three months." I nod. "That's when Alejandro found out. That's when he started planning."
"But how?" Lorenzo spreads his hands. "How would he find out after all this time? Giuseppe is dead. The men who were in that warehouse are dead. The only people who knew the truth were?—"
He stops.
His face goes pale.
"Were who?" I demand.
"Giuseppe's files." Lorenzo's voice is barely above a whisper. "Vittoria's been digging through them. She's been accessing old servers. Old contacts. Old records."
"You think she triggered something?"
"I don't know." He shakes his head. "I don't know anything. I'm just—I'm assuming. I'm guessing. I'm trying to piece together fragments of information that don't fit together."
"If they knew where Marina lived," I say slowly, "they could have come for her on day one. The moment I left her hospital room two years ago. The moment I started watching her. They could have used her against me at any point."
"Maybe they didn't know about her until?—"
"Until what? Until I showed up bleeding on her doorstep?" I laugh. The sound is hollow. Bitter. "That's convenient timing, don't you think? They set a trap in Denver. They knew I would come. They knew I would go to her if things went wrong. But they didn't know where she lived until I led them there?"
Lorenzo is silent.
Nico is silent.
The penthouse is silent.
