Chapter 13
The Confession
Dante found Mia on the roof.
She had gone up there because the air was cold and because the city below looked too distant to threaten her from so high up. The door opened behind her and shut again with the soft click of a man who knew how to move quietly when he wanted to.
"You shouldn't keep disappearing on me," he said.
"I thought you preferred control."
"Not when it looks like you mean it."
She laughed despite herself. That was the problem. She was starting to know the shape of him well enough to be angry when he vanished and relieved when he returned.
Dante stopped beside the railing, not touching her, leaving the space open on purpose.
"Are you going back inside?" he asked.
"Eventually."
"That wasn't the question."
Mia looked at the water below, black under the city lights. "What do you want from me, Dante?"
The question hung between them.
He took a breath as if the answer cost something.
"Not leverage," he said. "Not a witness. Not a body I can keep behind a lock and call it safety."
She turned to him.
His face looked different in the dark, stripped of the room's clean edges and the family table and the careful distance he wore like a second suit.
"I want you because when you're in the room, I stop lying to myself about what matters," he said. "And because I keep thinking that if I can just get you through this, I'll earn the right to want more than survival."
Mia felt the words in her throat.
"You think that sounds better than the truth?" she asked quietly.
"No." His voice went rough. "I think it's the only truth I haven't ruined yet."
The city wind moved between them.
Mia understood then that she had been waiting for him to name it not because she needed persuasion, but because she needed to know he would say it when it mattered.
"I don't know how to do this," she said.
"Neither do I."
It should have been a disaster. Instead it felt like the first honest thing in days.
Dante reached for her, slow enough for her to stop him, and let his knuckles brush the back of her hand. She caught his wrist before she thought about it.
"Mia," he said.
She looked up.
He kissed her again, not like the first time. This one was quieter, deeper, settled by choice instead of shock. When it ended, his forehead rested against hers for one impossible second.
"If you stay," he said, "I need it to be because you want to."
Mia's answer came after a breath.
"Then stop asking me to pretend I don't."
He exhaled like a man who had just lost a war and won the only battle that mattered.
The door behind them opened.
Enzo's voice cut across the roof. "Boss. We found Owen."
The night changed shape.