Chapter 12
The Door That Wouldn't Open
Mia waited until the safehouse was silent before she confronted Dante.
He was standing by the kitchen sink with his sleeves rolled to the elbow, washing soot from his hands as if that could undo the dock fire. He looked up when she came in, and he knew from her face exactly which question she had brought with her.
"Tell me the truth," she said.
He turned off the water. "About what?"
"Don't do that."
"Mia."
"My mother."
The room went very still.
She stepped closer, holding the page from the dock in one shaking hand. "You knew more than you said. Silvio knew more than he said. Owen knew enough to steal the ledger. And my mother's name is in all of it. Tell me what happened."
Dante looked at the paper, then at her.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet enough to make the truth feel heavier.
"Your mother worked bookkeeping for my father before she tried to leave," he said. "She saw something she shouldn't have. Silvio handled the ledger side after that. He was supposed to move her out quietly."
Mia's grip tightened.
"Moved her where?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know or you won't say?"
He held her gaze. "Both can be true."
That hurt more than she wanted to admit.
"Did you know she was in danger?"
Dante didn't answer fast enough.
The pause was enough.
Mia laughed once, brittle and disbelieving. "You knew."
"I knew she had been flagged."
"And?"
"And I was twenty-four, following orders, and not the man I am now."
It was the first time he had admitted the age of the mistake.
Mia stared at him. "So you did nothing."
The words were quiet.
He took them anyway.
"No," he said. "I did not do enough."
The admission landed harder than an argument would have. For a second she could not find the shape of her own breathing.
"You let her disappear."
"I let Silvio convince everyone the cleanest answer was silence."
Mia's eyes burned. She looked away first, not because he had won, but because she had suddenly run out of room for the version of him she could forgive.
"Was my father part of it?"
That time he did not hesitate.
"Yes."
The answer was a blade.
She turned back to him too quickly. "Then the ledger was never about Owen."
"No."
"It was about me."
Dante's face said yes before his mouth did.
The room felt smaller, the safehouse less safe, the water outside the window darker.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Now I clean it up."
"You?"
"Me."
She looked at him for a long time. He looked back, and for once there was no shield in his face.
Mia walked to the door.
Dante did not stop her.
She reached for the handle, paused, then looked over her shoulder. "If I open this door, are you going to tell me to come back?"
His answer came after a beat.
"No," he said.
That was the most dangerous thing he had said yet.
Mia opened the door and stepped into the hall.
It closed behind her with a soft click he did not follow.