Page 54 of Dante
Marina laughs again. Still not happy. "Anyone else. You mean anyone else besides the people you've already killed."
I don't answer. There's nothing to say.
She walks to the bedroom door. Stops with her hand on the frame.
"I'm going to make coffee," she says without turning around. "Because apparently I'm not sleeping tonight. Or any night until this is over."
She leaves.
I wait until I hear the coffee maker start in the kitchen. Then I call Lorenzo back.
He picks up on the second ring. "What now?"
"Marina. We need to shelter her."
Lorenzo sighs. The sound is heavy. Exhausted. I hear movement on his end—footsteps, a door opening and closing. He's walking somewhere. Away from whoever might be listening.
"You want me to what, exactly?" His voice is lower now. More private. "Pull her into a safe house? Uproot her entire life because you decided to bleed on her doorstep?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any idea what I'm dealing with right now?" Lorenzo's composure cracks. Just a little. "Sophia has been screaming at me for the past hour. She wants to get on a plane. She wants to be there. She doesn't care about the danger, doesn't care about the cartel, doesn't care that I need her safe in Chicago where I can protect her."
I hear something crash in the background. Distant. Muffled.
"That was a vase," Lorenzo says flatly. "She's throwing things now."
"Lorenzo—"
"And Bruno." He laughs. It's not a happy sound. "Bruno learned about the cartel twenty minutes ago. You know what he did? He called me. Screaming. Actually screaming, Dante. I've known that man for thirty-eight years and I've never heard him raise his voice like that. He wants to know how we let this happen. He wants to know why you were in Denver alone. He wants to know why I didn't send backup."
"I didn't need backup for a debt collection."
"Apparently you did." Lorenzo's voice goes sharp. "So now I have a furious wife who wants to fly into a war zone, a Don who's ready to burn down half of Mexico, and you're calling me to tell me what, exactly?"
I don't flinch.
"I'm calling to tell you that the only problem I'm responsible for is that I dragged Marina into this."
Lorenzo goes quiet. Either we shelter her." My voice doesn't waver. "Or I get out of this fucking building right now and go hunting every Mexican I can find until I'm dead for real."
The silence stretches.
"You're serious," Lorenzo says.
"I've never been more serious about anything in my life."
"Cazzo." The word comes out sharp. Angry. "You stubborn, reckless?—"
He hangs up.
I stare at the phone. The screen goes dark.
My hand is shaking. Not from pain. Not from blood loss. From rage.
I throw the phone across the bed. It bounces off the mattress and lands on the floor with a dull thud.
The coffee maker stops gurgling in the kitchen. I hear Marina's footsteps. She appears in the doorway, a mug in each hand.
