Page 52 of Blood Vows

“We need to leave,” he insisted.

“That isn't an answer to my question, Dante,” she said.

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.” Her expression cooled, and Dante immediately hated it, but distance was smart. Distance would keep her alive, and keep him useful. He opened the door. “After you.” She walked past him without another word, and somehow, her silence was worse than her arguing with him.

The storage facility sat behind a chain-link fence on the industrial edge of the city. Dante hated it on sight. There were too many buildings, too many blind spots, and too many places for someone to sit with a rifle and wait. He parked across the street rather than entering immediately. Elena reached for the door, and Dante caught her wrist.

“Wait,” he ordered.

She looked at his hand and then him. “I thought we were in a hurry.”

“We are,” he said.

“Then why are you telling me to wait?” she asked.

“Because somebody accessed your unit yesterday, and the camera footage was erased.”

That shut her up. “Someone erased it?”

“Yes, according to Marco, someone erased the footage.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked.

“I'm telling you now,” he said.

“That's not the same thing,” she insisted.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed.

Her eyes narrowed. “Anything else you're keeping from me?” He wanted to tell her that he was keeping plenty of things from her, for her own safety, but he didn’t. He wanted to tell her how badly he wanted to kiss her again; how close he’d come to saying fuck the storage unit and carrying her upstairs. He wanted to say how terrified he’d been when her blood covered his hand. And how the idea of someone having tomorrow marked as the day she died made him want to dismantle half the city.

Instead, he said, “The manager changed his story twice.”

Elena stared at the facility. “So this could be a trap.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“And we're going inside anyway,” she guessed.

“Yes.”

She looked at him. “Maybe I'm not the reckless one. Maybe you’re the reckless one.”

“Never said I wasn't,” he said. A hint of a smile appeared on her face, and he released her wrist. “Stay close.”

“I know,” she said.

“No wandering away,” he ordered.

“Dante,” she breathed.

“No arguing,” he insisted.

“Now you're just being unrealistic,” she chided.

He almost smiled. “Come on.” They crossed the street. Dante kept Elena slightly behind his right shoulder, with one hand near his gun. The manager was waiting inside the office. The guy was in his mid-fifties, sweating despite the cold, and Dante immediately disliked him.

“You Vitale?” the man asked. Dante didn't answer him. Instead, he looked around the office. There was one exit behind them, and a door leading to storage corridors. There were security monitors and three cameras.