Chapter 5
The Brother Who Vanished
By morning, Mia had a headache sharp enough to make every sound feel broken.
Dante gave her coffee, the ledger, and a map she did not remember asking for. Then he asked her to trust him for exactly ninety minutes.
She almost laughed at the specificity of it.
"Why ninety?" she asked.
"Because that's how long it takes to check a dead phone, a shell clinic, and a garage camera feed if the people in charge don't know they've been found yet."
The city outside the penthouse was wet and gray, the kind of day that made every street look guilty. Dante drove. Enzo followed in another car. Mia sat in the back seat and tried not to stare at the way Dante's hands moved on the wheel: calm, controlled, never wasted.
The first stop was a clinic in South Loop with a receptionist who looked up the instant Dante stepped inside and then looked very carefully anywhere else.
Mia stayed by the door while Dante spoke to the manager in a voice too low to carry. A few seconds later, he came back with a folded printout and the sort of expression that told her the answer was bad.
"Owen was here," he said.
Her stomach dropped. "When?"
"Two nights ago. A cut hand, one broken rib, and a name he wouldn't give."
"Did he say where he was going?"
"No."
"Did anyone else see him?"
Dante handed her the printout. Security stills, blurry and overexposed. Owen in a hoodie, shoulders hunched, looking over his shoulder like the street had teeth.
Alive.
Hurting.
Still running.
Mia had to look away before the fear turned into something worse.
The garage camera came next. Empty concrete, a broken fluorescent light, and a truck that had backed out too fast to be casual. Dante watched the footage twice and pointed to a figure crossing the frame in the reflection of a windshield.
"Who is that?" Mia asked.
"Silvio's driver."
Her head snapped up. "Your cousin?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you say so yesterday?"
He met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Because I didn't want you panicking before I knew whether he was involved."
"And now?"
"Now I know he is near it."
Mia gripped the edge of her seat. "Near it isn't enough."
"No," Dante said. "It isn't."
The third location was a storage row at the edge of the docks. Dante walked ahead of her, a hand low at the small of her back only once, just long enough to steer her around a puddle and make her aware of every inch of space between them.
He opened the lock on unit 17 with a key Mia had not seen him take.
Inside was a folding chair, a box of old invoices, and Owen's jacket.
Mia made a sound that was not quite her brother's name.
She picked up the jacket and pressed it to her face before she could stop herself. It smelled like rain, gasoline, and the sour edge of fear.
Dante let her have the moment.
When she lowered the jacket, she found a folded note in the lining. The paper was damp and almost torn in half.
Do not trust Dante's cousin.
That was all.
Mia looked at Dante so fast she almost hurt her neck. "Was this here when you arrived?"
"No."
"You didn't write it."
"No."
He said it too quickly for a lie and too evenly for comfort.
She stepped closer. "Then who did?"
He took the note from her hand and scanned it once. His jaw flexed.
"Someone who wants me focused on Silvio," he said.
"And?"
"And someone who knows enough to make that warning useful."
Mia's pulse hammered. "Owen?"
Dante did not answer immediately. That was answer enough.
He folded the note and put it in his pocket.
On the drive back, Mia stared out the window and watched the city slide past in broken reflections. Her brother had been alive two nights ago. The cousin Dante wasn't talking about had been close enough to touch the trail. And her mother was in the ledger.
When the car stopped at a light, her phone lit with a single text from an unknown number.
Found something else. Don't let him leave you alone.
No signature.
No proof.
Just the kind of message that made the back of her neck go cold.
Mia looked at Dante.
He was already watching her.