Chapter Ten: Sons of the Silence
The safehouse felt different in the daylight.
No screams. No shadows clawing at the walls. Just thick, heavy silence. Like the building itself was holding its breath.
Leo lay awake long before his brother stirred. His eyes traced the patterns in the steel ceiling, his mind turning over the same thought again and again:
Why did he smile at me?
Not Dante.
The man on the street.
He hadn't looked angry. He hadn't tried to get in. He'd just watched. Like he already knew Leo. Like he was waiting for something.
Across the room, Luca mumbled in his sleep and rolled over, clutching his stuffed lion tighter. Leo watched his twin for a moment.
Then he got up.
He padded across the floor quietly, barefoot, and opened the small door leading to the hallway.
The guards didn't stop him. Not the two at the main stairwell, and not the third by the elevator. He was Dante's blood, even if no one had said it out loud.
But he wasn't going far. Just to the top of the stairs, where Dante had been standing the night before, yelling into his phone, eyes wild.
Leo crouched, listening.
He didn't know what he was looking for. Only that the answers were no longer in the bedtime stories Evelyn used to tell. There was something else underneath. A darker story. One with secrets instead of dragons.
---
Downstairs, Dante stood at the kitchen counter, staring into a cold cup of espresso. He hadn't slept. Had barely sat. His mind spun with strategy, maps, surveillance footage—but nothing felt certain anymore.
Not with him back.
Not with the boys here.
Footsteps approached behind him.
He didn't turn.
"You're not as quiet as you think you are," he said calmly.
Leo's voice answered. "I wasn't trying to be."
Dante glanced over his shoulder. The boy stood there in a hoodie that was too big for him, bare feet on the marble, chin lifted like a prince born for war.
"You should be asleep."
Leo stepped closer. "He smiled at me."
Dante turned fully now.
"The man outside. The one Mommy's scared of. He smiled."
Silence.
Dante leaned down slightly. "You weren't supposed to see him."
"I did," Leo said. "And he saw me."
Dante straightened and gestured to the stool across from him. "Sit."
Leo climbed onto it. He didn't fidget, didn't ask questions. Just waited.
"He's dangerous," Dante said slowly. "That's all you need to know right now."
"He's the one you were talking about on the phone. Valen."
Dante's brows lifted. "You were listening?"
Leo nodded. "Luca said eavesdropping was rude. I said secrets were ruder."
Dante almost smiled. Almost.
"He's not a friend," Dante said. "He's the kind of man who leaves nothing behind but ruin."
"Then why does Mommy look like she knows him?"
Dante didn't answer immediately. He took a long sip from the cold espresso, swallowed it like medicine.
"Because once," he said carefully, "he helped her. Then he hurt her."
Leo looked down at his hands. "Is he our father?"
The words hit Dante harder than he expected.
"No," he said firmly.
"How do you know?"
Dante crouched beside him, placed a hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "Because I've seen the way he looks at you. And I've seen the way I look at you. It's not the same."
Leo blinked, but his voice was flat. "Mommy says blood doesn't make a father."
"She's right."
"But you're scared of him too."
Dante's jaw tightened. "I'm not scared for me."
Leo was quiet for a long time. Then whispered, "He looked like me."
That, more than anything, shattered something in Dante's chest.
He pulled Leo into a hug before he could stop himself. A real one. Not stiff. Not rehearsed.
The boy didn't pull away.
---
Luca was waiting in the hallway when they returned upstairs. His eyes narrowed when he saw Dante's hand resting on Leo's shoulder.
"What did he say?" Luca asked.
Leo didn't answer right away.
Then: "He said the man's name is Valen. And he's dangerous."
Luca stepped forward, eyes locked on Dante. "Is he the one who hurt Mommy before we came back?"
Dante looked between them. "You two are sharper than I expected."
"She cries when she thinks we're asleep," Luca said. "You don't have to say it."
Leo added, "And she checks the windows three times before locking them. Even when we're safe."
Dante crouched again, this time facing both boys.
"You're not supposed to carry these things," he said softly. "You're just kids."
Leo tilted his head. "So were you, once."
Dante blinked.
So were you. The words sliced through layers of steel he'd thought were unbreakable.
Luca finally asked, "What happens now?"
"Now," Dante said, "we train."
Luca's eyes widened. "You're going to teach us?"
"I'm going to teach you how to survive," Dante replied. "How to see a lie. How to shoot straight. How to run when you have to—and how to fight when you can't."
Leo looked at him. "So we don't end up like you?"
Dante's smile was hollow. "So you don't end up dead."
---
Later That Evening
The twins were in the underground gym now, barefoot, punching pads with more heart than skill. Dante stood beside Evelyn, watching them through the glass.
"You told them?" she asked quietly.
"No," he said. "They told me."
She sighed. "They're too young."
Dante folded his arms. "They're already in it. We can either pretend they're safe or make them strong."
Evelyn turned to look at him. "You sound like your father."
He met her gaze. "I'm nothing like my father."
She didn't argue.
After a moment, she said, "Leo thinks Valen is his father."
Dante looked away. "I told him the truth."
"Which truth?"
"That blood doesn't make a father."
Her shoulders eased, just a little.
"They need you now," she said.
"They always had me," he replied. "They just didn't know it."
---
That night, the twins didn't ask for bedtime stories. They stayed curled in bed, whispering between themselves, holding hands like they used to when the lights went out in the Spanish countryside.
Luca whispered, "You think we're ready for what's coming?"
Leo stared at the ceiling.
"No," he said.
"Then what do we do?"
"We get ready anyway."