“That’s not what I asked, Leo.” Dante’s voice is quiet but firm.
“She’s fine,” I repeat, my irritation spiking. What does he want me to say? “I checked on her after the attack. She wasn’t hurt. Just shaken up.”
“And you told her about the traitor.” It’s not a question, and there’s something in his tone I don’t like.
“She needed to know why the attack failed and why her father couldn’t get to her.” I meet his eyes, daring him to challenge me on this. “She accused me of thinking she somehow contacted Connor despite being locked in a room.”
“Couldshe have?” Dante asks, his eyebrow raised slightly.
“No.” I’m one hundred percent certain of that, and the question pisses me off. “We’ve monitored everything. No phone, no internet, no communication with the guards. Emma didn’t facilitate this. Zima sold us out independently.”
Dante nods slowly, his expression still concerned in a way that’s starting to irritate me. “What’s your plan now? Connor knows where she is. He’ll try again.”
“He can try.” The words come out harder than I intend, my frustration bleeding through. “We’ve reinforced the perimeter, doubled the guards, and now we know to look for traitors. He won’t get through a second time.”
“And Emma?” Dante presses, and I can hear the edge in his voice now. “How long are you planning to keep her?”
It’s the same fucking question he keeps asking me and it’s the same question my mother asked.
I still don’t have a good answer, and I’m tired of being asked.
“As long as it takes,” I snap.
“As long aswhattakes, Leo?” Dante’s patience is clearly wearing thin, his voice rising slightly. “You’ve made your point. Connor suffered. He’s terrified for his daughter. Mission accomplished. Now what?”
“Now he learns that actions have consequences.” The words sound hollow even to me, but I don’t know what else to say. “He learns what it’s like to lose someone.”
“What it’s like to lose some—so you’re keeping herindefinitely?” Dante looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, his frustration finally showing. “That’syour plan? Keep Emma Brennan locked in a bedroom while Connor builds an army and eventually does succeed in burning this place down?”
“I don’t know!” I shout as I stand up, ignoring the pain in my side. “I don’t know what the plan is, Dante. I just know I can’t let her go. Not yet.”
“Why not?” He’s not backing down, standing there with his arms crossed and his jaw set.
Because my mother is right—letting Emma go means admitting this was all a mistake.
Gabriel would be disappointed in what I’ve become.
Because the moment I let Emma walk out of here, Connor wins.
I’m not ready to face the fact that revenge doesn’t feel like I thought it would.
“Because Connor needs to suffer more,” I finally say, knowing it’s weak.
Dante looks at me for a long moment, and I can see the disappointment in his eyes. It’s the same look I could almost see my mother had when I spoke to her.
“I hope you figure out what you’re really doing here,” he says quietly, his voice tired. “Before this situation becomes even more complicated than it already is.”
He leaves, closing the door softly behind him, and I’m alone with my whiskey and my anger.
I pull up the security feed on my monitor, wanting to check to make sure Emma’s secure after the attack.
Knowing her, she’s probably plotting to escape through the damaged wall.
The camera feed is crystal clear.
It’s one of the best surveillance systems money can buy, and right now it shows Emma in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, her dark auburn hair spread across the white pillowcase.
She’s asleep.