C146 This Is On You

The night sky above the Virellis estate was eerily still as Dante stepped out of his car.

He clenched his fists as his eyes scanned the silent structure, dread pooling in his gut.

Angelo appeared by his side, his face grim. “Boss, it’s bad.”

“How bad?” Dante’s voice was low, almost dangerous, but inside he was bracing himself for what Angelo would say.

“They killed all the men with him. Mr Virelli… he didn’t make it,” Angelo said quietly, his words heavy with finality.

Dante’s world tilted.

Matteo...his godfather, the man who had been a father figure since his father's death, was gone.

And it was his fault.

The weight of the decision to pull protection from the Virellis crushed him now, each breath a reminder of his failure.

Without a word, Dante strode forward, his steps heavy as he crossed the threshold of the once-grand estate.

Inside, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp bite of gunpowder.

His men stood silently, their expressions mirroring the devastation Dante felt but would never outwardly show.

Matteo’s bedroom, the room where the old man had spent his final days, was a mess of overturned furniture and splattered blood. Dante’s eyes locked onto the bed.

Matteo’s lifeless body lay there, his eyes closed, his hand resting over his heart as if in defiance of the violent death that had claimed him.

Dante’s jaw tightened.

He stepped closer, his footsteps echoing in the hollow silence.

Matteo looked so small, so frail, in death...a stark contrast to the giant of a man who had once ruled this family with wisdom and strength.

A sob broke the quiet, and Dante turned to see Antonia standing in the doorway, her face streaked with tears.

Dante's gaze went to her brother, who was standing behind her with a glower on his face.

Mikhail's shoulders shook slightly as he glared at Dante with unrestrained fury.

“You,” Mikhail hissed, his voice venomous. “This is on you, Dante. You left us exposed, and now he’s gone."

“Mikhail,” Dante started, his voice low and filled with regret, but Mikhail cut him off.

“Don’t,” Mikhail snapped, his hands trembling. “Don’t you dare say anything. You have no right to mourn him, not after what you did. He trusted you, and you let him die!"

Dante said nothing. What could he say? Mikhail was right. Every decision he had made had led to this moment.

“Stay away from us,” Mikhail continued, his voice breaking. “You’re not welcome here. Don't you even think of coming to his funeral. You don’t deserve to be there.”

For a moment, Dante wanted to argue or even explain.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he inclined his head and briefly laid his hand on Antonia's shoulder in consolation as he passed.

Then he left.

******

The cemetery was shrouded in a light mist, the grey sky mirroring the sombre mood of those gathered.

Dante stood at a distance, his figure hidden in the shadow of a tall oak tree.

He watched as the mourners, mostly the Virelli family and close allies, gathered around Matteo’s grave.

Mikhail stood at the head of the procession, his face a mask of grief and anger.

Dante could see the tension in the younger man’s shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

Angelo approached Dante from behind, his voice low. “You shouldn’t be here, boss."

“I had to come,” Dante replied, his eyes never leaving the scene. “I owed him that much."

The priest’s voice carried over the quiet crowd, delivering words of solace that felt hollow in Dante’s ears.

He had failed Matteo, which was just like failing his father.

As the mourners began to disperse, Dante remained rooted to the spot, watching as Mikhail lingered by the grave.

The younger man placed a hand on the headstone, his lips moving in silent prayer

Or maybe a threat.

Whichever one it was, Dante knew he was not going to let him face it alone.

He fucked up.

And he always cleaned up his mess.

As he turned away from the graveyard, he made a silent promise of his.

"You can bet on it," he muttered.

*****

The news came two nights later. Romano had been found dead in his office, a single gunshot wound to the head.

A note was left on his desk, claiming that he could no longer bear the grief of losing his son.

Dante sat in his study, the dim light from the desk lamp casting harsh shadows across his face.

He read the report from his men, his expression unreadable.

“Poetic, isn’t it?” Angelo said, standing nearby.

Dante didn’t respond.

He set the paper down and leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant.

Romano’s death had brought a grim sense of closure, but it didn’t erase the weight on Dante’s shoulders.

Romano had been as stupid as his son.

He had caused a meaningless death while the real culprit was still out there.

Getting revenge for Matteo didn't fill him with satisfaction.

All he felt was a deep well of sadness.

******

That night, Dante sought solace in Annabelle.

He found her in the library, curled up on one of the armchairs with a book in her lap.

She looked up as he entered, her expression softening when she saw him.

“Dante,” she said quietly, setting the book aside.

He didn’t speak immediately, crossing the room and sinking into the chair opposite her. For a moment, they sat in silence, the unspoken tension hanging between them.

“I failed him,” Dante finally said, his voice raw. “Matteo. I let him down.”

Annabelle’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice.

She leaned forward, resting her hand on his. “Dante, you can’t carry this alone. You did what you thought was right at the moment.”

“And it got him killed,” he said bitterly. “Mikhail was right. I left them exposed."

“You’re human,” Annabelle said softly. “You’re not infallible, Dante.”

He looked at her then, his eyes searching hers. “I can’t lose you too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t,” she promised, her voice steady.

Dante leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he let himself be vulnerable.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to hope.

As she turned her face to him and found his lips with hers, an unexpected wetness teased his eyes.

He made a keening sound in his throat as he pulled her to his laps and sank deeper into the kiss.