Page 18 of Blood Vows

The Camorra family has a traitor, and he knows who you are.

Dante read it again, and then a third time. “Your father wrote this?”

“Yes, that’s his handwriting,” she said.

“When did he write it?” Dante asked.

“I don't know,” she said.

He looked at her. “Elena, this changes everything.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“No.” Dante folded the note and shoved it into his jacket. “I don't think you do.”

“That belongs to me,” she said, holding her hand out to him.

“Not anymore,” Dante said.

Her anger flared. “You don't get to take my father's last words away from me.”

“I do when those words could get you killed,” Dante insisted.

“It doesn’t matter who’s holding the letter. I’m already dead!” The room went silent. Elena's breathing came too quickly, and Dante stared at her. His expression shifted to something softer—dangerously softer.

He stepped toward her. “Elena.”

She shook her head. “Don't.”

“Look at me,” he ordered.

“I said don't,” she shouted. He ignored her.

Dante placed both hands on her shoulders. “Look at me.” She did, but she wished she hadn't because there was something in his eyes that she didn't know what to do with—concern. It was real concern, not for the investigation, not for Luca, but for her. “We're going to figure this out.”

Her throat tightened. “You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Because I'm telling you we will figure this out, and I’m not a liar,” he said.

A broken laugh escaped her. “That's not how certainty works.”

“It’s how it works for me,” he said. She stared at him. He was an arrogant bastard, but somehow, she believed him. That scared her more than the bullets ever could. Dante's thumb moved slightly against her shoulder. It was a tiny motion, but comforting. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and this time, she knew she hadn't imagined it. Heat curled low in her stomach. This was completely wrong. She should move or tell him to move, but did neither.

“Dante,” she whispered. His gaze snapped back to hers, and for one suspended second, she wondered if he was going to kiss her, or worse—she wondered if she would let him.

The phone rang, and they jumped apart like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't. Dante swore and pulled it from his pocket. “What?” Elena turned away, trying to get herself under control. Whatever had almost happened hadn't happened, and that was good. She heard Luca's voice faintly through the phone but couldn't make out the words, and then Dante went completely still.

“What do you mean, another one?” Dante asked. Elena turned and noticed that his expression had changed. The warmth was gone, and the killer had returned.

“When?” he asked. She stepped closer to him, trying to listen to the conversation. “Where?” Dante's gaze landed on Elena, and her stomach twisted.

“What happened?” she asked, but he ignored her. “I'll bring her.” Dante ended the call, and Elena waited for him to tell her what was happening, but he didn't speak.

“Dante,” she said.