Page 67 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
I dig deeper into the memory, past the fear and trauma to those final moments. “He was whispering. Barely conscious.”
“What did he say?”
“‘Where the saint watches the sinners.’The words come out in a rush as the memory surfaces fully. “That’s what he said. Not just‘saint’but‘where the saint watches the sinners.’”
Dante goes very still. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I can see it now. His lips were bloody and he was struggling to breathe but he kept repeating it.‘Where the saint watches the sinners.’”
“That’s not a dying confession. That’s a clue.”
“A clue to what?”
“To where he hid the ledger.” Dante stands and starts pacing. “Antonio was many things, but he was also paranoid and clever. He would’ve hidden his insurance policy somewhere meaningful to him. Somewhere with religious symbolism.”
“There are probably a thousand churches in this city.”
“Not churches. Think bigger. More dramatic. Antonio loved making statements.”
I watch him pace and feel frustration building. “I don’t know what it means, Dante. I’m just telling you what he said.”
“I know. And it’s more than we had before.” He stops and looks at me. “You did good today.”
The praise shouldn’t make me feel warm, but it does. The sessions continue but I start noticing other things too.
Viktor is around more than usual. I catch him lurking in hallways, watching Dante’s office door, always seeming to be nearby when we’re working on the memories.
“Is it me or is Viktor shadowing you?” I ask Dante after one session.
“He’s protective. Especially right now.”
“Why especially right now?”
Dante’s jaw tightens. “Because tensions are escalating in the city. The other families know I’m protecting you now. They assume I’m hunting the ledger for myself.”
“Are you?”
“I’m hunting it to keep you safe. Whatever power it contains is secondary.”
“That’s not how they see it though, is it?”
“No.”
The weight of that settles over me like a heavy blanket. “So by being here, I’m making you enemies.”
“You being here keeps you alive. Everything else is manageable.”
“Manageable how? How do you manage when former allies become enemies overnight?”
His expression goes hard. “The same way I always have. With superior force and strategic planning.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I have.”
I want to argue but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands keep clenching into fists. He’s worried even if he won’t admit it.
That night I overhear him on the phone in his office.
