He set the phone aside, his knuckles white from how hard he'd been gripping it. The call with Jaime had left him more unsettled than he wanted to admit. Jaime Lorenzo wasn't the type of man to bluff—if he was standing his ground against the De Rossi family, it meant he had something, some kind of card tucked under his sleeve. Dante knew better than to underestimate him. A man like Jaime wouldn't walk into a battlefield unarmed, especially when he knew exactly who his enemies were.
The weight of the decision pressed against Dante's chest. He needed to act fast, but recklessness would only add more blood to his hands, and he was already drowning in enough of it.
Unbeknownst to Dante, the entire time he'd been in the bathroom, he didn't notice someone had been listening to his conversation.
