“He just sent a message to the secure line.”

Dante turned slowly, his posture shifting into something alert and dangerous.

“Show me,” Dante commanded.

Victor stepped forward and held out the phone.

On the screen was a photograph.

It was a picture of the door to Mrs. Patel’s apartment.

But painted across the wood in dark, wet red was a single, perfect symbol.

A snake biting its own tail.

The mark of the Moretti family.

And beneath the photo was a text message.

*We found your weakness, Russo.*

My heart stopped, and the world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

Dante’s phone in his pocket began to vibrate, the screen lighting up with a call from an unknown number.

Dante answered the phone, his thumb sliding across the glass.

He pressed the device to his ear.

“Russo,” he said.

His voice sounded like gravel scraping over concrete.

The office was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner.

I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but I saw the muscles in Dante’s jaw tighten.

His eyes fixed on the city lights outside the window.