Chapter 4: The First Move
923 Words
When the call was over, there was silence.
Not the empty kind. The kind that watched.
Sienna was quite still and the phone lay on the table as though it were going to bite her should she approach it once more. Her heart beat boomed in her ears. Once. Twice. Persevering, but only because she had to make it.
Dante broke the silence.
“You didn’t flinch,” he said.
She lifted her eyes slowly. “I wanted to.”
“But you didn’t.”
“That’s called survival.”
He was studying her, something that was not readable going behind his eyes. Then he turned to the guard. “Clear the room.”
The guard hesitated. “Capo—”
“Now.”
The door closed behind them. The click echoed.
Sienna crossed her arms, but not to comfort herself, to hold herself together. My mother works with your family, so, she said. Or against it. Or both.”
Dante went to the table and collected the papers, hitting them into a pile. “She’s loyal to power. Always has been.”
Sienna shook her head slowly. You speak of her as you were acquainted with her.
“I did.”
That struck her more than she had anticipated.
She stepped closer. “How?”
He met her gaze. She explained to me how to lie without blinking.
Sienna sucked in a breath. She turned her head before he could observe how her eyes were burning.
That is why you married me, she said to herself. “Not just the debt.”
“No,” Dante replied. I had married you because it was easier to kill you--and I did not wish to take that decision.
She turned back sharply. “You think that’s comforting?”
“No,” he said. “It’s honest.”
She gave a trembling sigh, and pulled herself up. “Fine. Then here’s my honesty.”
She stepped into his space. Not touching. Proximate enough that he was forced to look at her.
“I won’t be used,” she said. “Not by you. Not by her. If I’m on this board, I play.”
Dante didn’t move back. His eyes went momentarily down to her clenched fists, and back to her face.
“Good,” he said. Since it was no longer possible to hide you.
He turned toward the door. “You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“A meeting.”
“With who?”
He paused. “My inner circle.”
Her stomach tightened. “You trust them?”
“I trust them to be dangerous.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
The room which they now entered was smaller and darker. Heavy wood. Low lights. Around a long table were five men. The dialogue had stopped the moment Sienna entered.
Eyes turned. Measured. Judged.
Dante took the head seat. He did not even give her a gesture to sit--but he did not prevent her when she drew out the chair at his elbow.
“This is my wife,” he said flatly. “She listens.”
One of the men smirked. “Does she?”
Sienna heard the challenge even before it was uttered.
The hand of Dante is a slow one--but his fingers were on the table with an aim. “Yes.”
The smirk faded.
One of the folders was sliding over the table at Dante. He opened it. Photos. Names. Routes.
Some one of the men said, There was a leak. Information is becoming mobile before us.
Sienna bent in unwillingly. That is not a leak, I thought before I said it.
The heads turned to her.
Dante’s jaw tightened. “You said you’d listen.”
“And I did,” she replied, calm. It is the wrong thing you are blaming.
The men shifted. Murmurs rose.
Dante lifted a hand. Silence fell.
“Explain,” he said to her.
She pointed to a photo. This was a last minute rerouting of this shipment.
“Yes,” a man said sharply. “Because—”
Leaks hide, because a person wants it to be noticed, Sienna broke in. This is bait.”
Dante examined the image further.
Somebody wants you uncovered, some one, said the one. “Not weakened. Watched.”
A long pause.
Then Dante closed the folder.
“Everyone out,” he said.
They hesitated. Then obeyed.
As they were alone Dante turned entirely to her.
You have just dared men who kill to earn their living.
She shrugged a little but her pulse throbbed. I argue over the grades with criminals.
A quiet breath escaped him. Almost a laugh. Almost.
“You were right,” he said. “And that makes you a problem.”
“Get used to it.”
He stepped closer. “Your mother won’t wait.”
“I know.”
“She’ll test you.”
“I’m ready.”
His eyes were ransacking her face, as though it were the first time he saw her. “Then you’ll need protection.”
“I have you.”
A beat.
That, said he, is the worst assumption you have made.
A phone buzzed.
Dante checked it. His expression hardened.
She is attacking, he said.
Sienna swallowed. “How?”
“She’s coming.”
“To the estate?”
“No,” he replied. “To you.”
Her breath caught. “When?”
Dante met her gaze.
“Tonight.”
And Siena knew at that time--
This wasn’t a reunion.
It was a reckoning.
- Writer
