The Don's Lost Love

Chapter 2: The Past Returns.

Dante's POV

The room was cold, the kind of cold that settled deep into the bones, making men shift uncomfortably in their seats.

I liked it that way–it kept them on edge.

I sat at the head of the long glass table, watching each of them, studying their faces. Some of them were new, faces I hadn’t seen long enough to know if I could trust them. Others were familiar, men who had been with me through blood and fire.

“Gentlemen,” I began, leaning back in my chair, fingers steepled in front of me. “We have a problem.”

One of my newer men, a wiry guy named Marco with a nervous twitch, looked around the table. His eyes landed on me, darting away as quickly as they came. “Don, I don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… I thought we had everything under control.”

I let silence hang for a moment, just enough to make him squirm. Then I leaned forward, looking him dead in the eyes. “Control is only an illusion, Marco. One misstep, one loose tongue, and control shatters. Are you ready to see everything fall apart because someone got sloppy?”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing as he tried to hold my gaze. “No, Don.”

“No,” I repeated, my voice soft, almost a whisper. “None of us are. Which is why I’m going to make this very clear.” I looked around the table, letting my gaze settle on each of them in turn. “I don’t tolerate mistakes. I don’t tolerate betrayal. You slip up, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

There was fear in their eyes, and that was exactly what I wanted. Fear was useful. Fear kept men loyal, kept them from thinking too hard about crossing me.

Adrian, my right hand, cleared his throat and leaned forward. “There’s been talk on the streets, Dante. Word is spreading that someone’s been asking questions about you, poking around where they shouldn’t.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting my gaze drift towards him. “And did you find out who?”

Adrian's jaw clenched, frustration flashing across his face. “We’re close, Don. But it’s like they’re ghosts, in and out before we can catch a scent.”

“A ghost.” I smirked, tapping my fingers against the table. “Well, I don’t believe in ghosts, Adrian.” I leaned forward, my voice a low growl. “Find them. And when you do, make them understand what it means to cross me.”

Adrian nodded, his gaze hard and unflinching. “Got it, Don.”

Marco shifted in his seat again, his fingers tapping nervously against his knee. I watched him, feeling irritated. “Something on your mind, Marco?”

He flinched, glancing up, caught like a deer in headlights. “It’s just… there was this guy. Down by the docks. Said he was… well, he was looking for a girl.”

I felt a muscle in my jaw tighten. “A girl?”

“Yes,” Marco’s voice trembled, but he pressed on, either brave or stupid—I hadn’t decided which yet. “He said… he said her name was Rosa.”

The room went deadly quiet and I felt the name hit me like a punch to the gut, an old, buried pain rising to the surface.

I schooled my face into a mask, kept my voice even. “Did he say anything else?”

Marco shifted under my gaze, his fingers twisting in his lap. “He didn’t say much. Just… he was looking for her.”

I closed my eyes, just for a second, a memory flashing through my mind.

A little girl, laughing in the sun, her brown hair flying in the wind as she ran through the fields.

Rosa. My Rosa.

I forced myself back to the present, to the men in front of me. “Did you find out who he was?”

Marco shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “No, Don. He disappeared before I could get a closer look. But he… he left a message.”

He slid a piece of paper across the table. I picked it up, unfolding it slowly, my heart pounding as I read the single line scrawled in messy handwriting.

Find her, Dante. Before I do.

I crushed the paper in my hand, my face expressionless as I looked up at my men. “Leave. Now.”

They didn’t hesitate. Chairs scraped against the floor as they scrambled out, leaving me alone with the note and the silence.

I sat there for a long moment, my gaze fixed on the crumpled paper in my hand.

Rosa.

The name echoed in my mind, bringing with it a flood of memories I had tried so hard to forget.

I stood up and crossed the room to the cabinet where I kept my more personal things.

Opening it, I reached inside and pulled out an old, faded photograph. It was worn around the edges, creased from being handled too many times, but the image was clear enough.

A young girl with wide, hopeful eyes, a shy smile on her face as she looked up at the camera.

I stared at it, my thumb brushing over the faded ink. “Where are you, Rosa?” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the empty room. “What the hell happened to you?”

I had spent years looking for her, hunting down every whisper, every rumour, and yet nothing.

“You were the one good thing,” I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. She was the one person who had seen me before all this—before I became Dante Morano, king of the underworld. She had seen me as a boy, scared and scarred, desperate for someone to believe in him.

A knock sounded at the door, pulling me from my thoughts. I quickly slipped the photo back into the cabinet, closing it with a soft click before turning to face Adrian.

“Don,” he said, stepping into the room. “There’s been a development. Down by the docks, one of our guys spotted someone. Same guy as before, we think.”

I felt a rush of anger, a dark satisfaction bubbling up. “And you brought him in?”

Adrian shook his head, his face hard. “He slipped away. We think he might be working with someone.”

I clenched my fists, feeling the rage simmering just beneath the surface. “Find him, Adrian. I want every man on this. I want answers.”

Adrian nodded, his eyes dark with resolve. “We’ll get him, Dante. I’ll make sure of it.”

As he turned to leave, I stopped him, my voice low. “And if he knows anything about Rosa… I want him alive. Understood?”

Adrian hesitated for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but he nodded. “Understood, Don.”

He left, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving me alone once again.

I walked back to the table, picking up the crumpled note and reading the words again.

Find her, Dante. Before I do.

It felt like a threat I couldn’t ignore. Someone out there knew about her, knew the one weakness I had buried deep, the one part of me that was still human. And they were using it, forcing my hand.

I looked back at the cabinet, where the photograph was hidden. I could see her face in my mind, the way she had laughed, the way she had looked at me like I was worth something. She had been my reason for fighting, and when she had disappeared, it had felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me.

But I wasn’t that boy anymore. I was Dante Morano, and I would find her. No matter what it took, no matter how many bodies I had to bury, I would find my Rosa.

I sat back down, staring at the empty table, my mind spinning with different plans.

This man, whoever he was, had just made a dangerous mistake. He had underestimated me, thought he could taunt me, manipulate me with the one thing I cared about. He had no idea who he was dealing with.

I picked up the photograph one last time, staring at her face, the soft curve of her smile, the light in her eyes. “I’ll find you, Rosa,” I whispered, the words a promise, a vow. “I’ll make this right.”