Chapter 8 - THE FRIEND WHO SOLD HIM OUT
Dominic didn't shout.
He didn't break anything.
He simply sat down.
For several minutes, he stared at the frozen image of Dante's signature.
Then he whispered:
“Twenty years.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“I've known Dante for twenty years.”
His voice was hollow.
“He was there when my father died.”
I sat opposite him.
“He may not have acted alone.”
Dominic looked up.
“You're trying to make this easier.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I'm trying to keep you from making a decision before we know everything.”
He studied me.
Then nodded.
“You're right.”
That surprised me.
Dominic Falcone was not known for admitting anyone else was right.
He looked at the screen again.
“What do we do?”
I took a breath.
“We preserve the evidence.”
He nodded.
“Then?”
“We involve independent counsel and the authorities.”
His expression tightened.
“Dante won't cooperate.”
“Then that's his decision.”
I looked directly at him.
“But you can't solve betrayal by becoming the worst version of yourself.”
Dominic stared at me.
For a moment, I thought I'd gone too far.
Then he smiled sadly.
“You're very brave.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
My voice trembled.
“I'm terrified.”
He leaned forward.
“Then why are you still here?”
I looked down.
“Because Owen is still missing.”
Then I met his eyes.
“And because I don't think you deserve to be destroyed by someone you trusted.”
Something changed in his expression.
Something warm.
Something dangerous in a different way.
“Gemma,” he whispered.
I looked away.
May you like
Not because I was afraid.
Because I suddenly understood that the line between loyalty and love had become dangerously thin.
