Chapter 64. Fallout

I gape at Dante. Christos asked him not to tell us? Why wouldn’t he want us to know he was dead?

“Why should I believe you?” I say, clinging to the last vestiges of the shell I’ve built up.

He drops back into his seat. “That’s your question to answer. I’ve told you everything I know. I was just keeping a promise.”

My anger burns away my grief. “Keeping a promise? You lied to me, Dante. You let me—sleep with you, and you hid this from me.”

“I took his body out with the rest of our men,” he says like I didn’t speak. “Tony and I buried him upstate. I buried him, my friend, with my own fucking hands. I can show you, if you want.”

I slam my hands down on his desk. “Are you listening to me? What the hell made you think that would help? I’m leaving in the fucking morning.”

“That’s your choice,” he says evenly. “But you should know this isn’t a life people just get to walk away from.”

“Is that a threat?”

He meets my gaze