C156 Hell To Pay

The evening sky outside his study windows was heavy with the promise of rain.

The dark clouds rolled over Acadia like silent predators, and the golden light of the setting sun was barely visible on the horizon, smothered by the ominous grey.

Dante sat in his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath him as he scrolled through the reports from his men.

He was exhausted, though he would never show it.

The weight of decisions, betrayals, and the constant threat to his territory had carved a deep, silent fury into him that simmered just below the surface.

His empire might look unshakable, but he knew all too well that the wrong move could send everything crashing down.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

Before he could answer, the door creaked open, and Sal stepped in. His expression was taut, the lines on his face deeper than usual.

“Boss,” Sal greeted, closing the door behind him.

Dante leaned back, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

Sal wasn’t someone who would come to him uninvited without a damn good reason. “Sal. What brings you here?"

Sal hesitated.

Something unusual for a man who was typically composed.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing the collar of his leather jacket. “I came to talk to you about Mikhail."

At the mention of Mikhail, Dante’s jaw tightened imperceptibly.

The last time they’d spoken, it had been tense, but not outright hostile.

They’d reached what he thought was an uneasy truce, though he hadn't heard from him since then about what he had done regarding his promise.

“What about him?" he asked offhandedly.

Sal stepped closer, his boots scuffing against the hardwood floor. “He sent me off."

Dante’s brows lifted, his expression cool but curious. “Sent you off?”

“Yeah.” Sal’s voice was bitter, laced with frustration. “Told me my time with the Virellis was over. Said I wasn’t needed anymore.”

Dante leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

His piercing gaze locked onto Sal, studying him carefully. “And why would he do that?”

Sal shrugged, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his attempt at nonchalance. “You’ll have to ask him. He didn’t give me a reason. Just said I was free to go. But I figured... it was because I came from you so now that things are as they were, he wanted me to come back. to you.

For a long moment, Dante didn’t respond.

His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable as he processed the information.

Mikhail’s actions didn’t sit right.

The last time they spoke, there had been no indication of lingering resentment strong enough to warrant this.

“You’re saying he just let you go?” Dante asked, his voice low and steady.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Sal crossed his arms, his stance firm. “And honestly, I’m not going to beg to stay where I’m not wanted.”

Dante’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained cold. “Smart choice. Loyalty works both ways, Sal.”

Sal nodded, relaxing slightly. “So, I thought I’d come back to where it all started. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Dante leaned back again, tapping his fingers lightly against the desk. He had no issue with Sal coming back into his fold.

Loyalty was a currency he valued above all else, and Sal had always been a dependable asset.

But the question of why Mikhail had done this lingered in his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“No problem with that,” Dante said finally, his tone clipped. “But tell me something, Sal.”

“Anything, Boss.”

“Did Mikhail seem… different to you?”

Sal frowned, considering the question. “Different how?”

“Anything. Off. Distracted. Angry.” Dante’s voice dropped slightly, a quiet storm gathering behind it.

Sal shook his head. “Not really. He seemed… I don’t know, like himself, just colder. More businesslike. But that’s been him for a while now,"

Dante nodded absently, his gaze drifting to the window.

The first drops of rain had started to streak down the glass, catching the faint glow of the desk lamp.

Something wasn’t adding up.

Mikhail wasn’t the type to burn bridges without a reason, especially not with someone as skilled and experienced as Sal.

“Alright,” Dante said finally, standing up. His towering figure cast a long shadow across the room. “You’re back with me now. No strings, no questions. But I’ll need you to stay sharp. There’s something I don’t like about this."

Sal gave him a small, appreciative nod. “Understood, Boss. I’ll pull my weight."

Dante moved around the desk, stopping in front of Sal.

His dark eyes bore into the man, and his voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “And Sal?"

“Yes, Boss?"

“If there’s anything else you haven’t told me, now’s the time.”

Sal’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but he shook his head. “That’s all, I swear."

Dante stared at him for a moment longer, then gave a sharp nod. “Get settled. We’ll talk later."

Sal left without another word, with the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Alone in the room, Dante turned back to the window.

The rain was coming down harder now, a steady rhythm against the glass.

Something wasn’t right.

His fingers brushed against the onyx ring on his hand, the cold metal grounding him as his thoughts spiraled.

Mikhail’s actions didn’t fit, not after their last conversation.

It was either a message or a mistake.

And Dante didn’t believe in mistakes.

He clenched his fists at his sides, the storm outside reflecting the growing turbulence within him.

Whatever game Mikhail was playing...or being forced to play...Dante would get to the bottom of it.

And when he did, there would be hell to pay.