Dante’s POV
The truth came like a knife in the dark—sharp, cold, and already buried to the hilt before I even felt the sting.
Vito.
My second cousin. My right hand since I was twenty-three. The man who’d carried my drunk ass home after my first real hit, who’d stood beside me at my father’s funeral and never once blinked when I gave the order to burn the old man’s body instead of burying it. For months he’d been feeding the feds everything—shipment dates, warehouse codes, names of our cleaners, even the routes we used to move product through the port.
Luna’s tapes? The ones she’d risked her life to record? They never made it past the first dead drop. The Bureau knew exactly who she was working with.
They’d turned her into bait, a shiny lure dangling in front of me, willing to let her
