DANTE POV
I woke up with Celeste's blood on my hands.
Not a memory. Not a fear. Real blood, sticky and warm, soaking through the bandages Ghost had put around her shoulder in the car. She'd passed out ten minutes ago, her face white as death, and now she was spread across my bed like a broken angel.
The bullet had gone clean through. Lucky. If it had hit two inches to the left, her heart would've stopped before we made it out of that building.
I should've felt nothing. I'd watched dozens of people get shot. I'd pulled the trigger myself more times than I could count.
But my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Boss." Ghost emerged in the doorway, his white-blond hair splattered with blood that wasn't his. "We've got a problem."
"Another one?" I didn't look away from Celeste. Her chest rose and fell, shallow but steady. Alive. For now.
"The tactical team? They weren't Council. I checked the bodies. They're wearing Council gear, but the guns are wrong. Russian make. Expensive. Someone's claiming to be Council and doing a damn good job of it."
My jaw tightened. "Victor."
"That's my guess. He's cleaning up loose ends. The woman pretending to be Celeste's mother—"
"Is probably dead now." I pressed my hand against Celeste's forehead. Burning up. Fever setting in. "Did you get the flash drive?"
Ghost held it up, the small black object smeared with dried blood. "Got it. Haven't opened it yet. Wanted to wait for you."
I looked at that tiny piece of plastic. Everything Evelyn Armitage had said could be on there. Proof of the Council. Proof that my father had stolen his wealth. Proof that someone had been influencing us both for years.
Or proof of absolutely nothing. Another lie in a tower of lies so high I couldn't see the top anymore.
"Burn it," I said.
Ghost blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Burn it. I don't care what's on it. I don't care if it's the truth or another trick. We're done playing their game."
"Boss, if the Council's real—"
"Then let them come." I finally looked at him. "I've spent my whole life fighting for power. Building a kingdom. Proving I was more than the bastard son of a drug dealer's whore. And for what? So I could watch the one person who actually counts bleed out in front of me?"
Ghost studied me like I'd grown a second head. "You're talking about the girl you bought at an auction three hours ago."
"I know what I'm talking about."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you sound like a man who's lost his mind over a woman he doesn't even know."
He wasn't wrong. I'd known Celeste for less than four hours. Four hours of confusion, violence, and discoveries that made my head spin.
But I'd also watched her run toward trouble instead of away from it. Watched her face down her apparently dead mother without falling apart. Watched her lunge for that flash drive even knowing she might die for it.
Most people I knew would've picked survival. Celeste had chosen truth.
That meant something.
"Set up a safe house," I ordered. "Somewhere Victor doesn't know about. We're hiding until I figure out who's trying to kill us and why."
"And the flash drive?"
I looked at it again. Tempting. Dangerous. "Keep it. But we don't look at it yet. Not until I'm sure it won't get us killed."
Ghost nodded slowly, then left. Smart man. He knew when to argue and when to follow orders.
I turned back to Celeste. Her eyes were moving behind closed lids. Dreaming. Or remembering. Her lips moved, making silent words I couldn't hear.
I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to move her shoulder. "Who are you really?" I whispered. "What the hell did I just buy?"
Her eyes snapped open.
I jerked back, reaching for my gun, but her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist with amazing strength for someone who'd nearly died.
"Where is it?" Her voice was rough, urgent. "Where's the flash drive?"
"Safe."
"I need it. You don't understand. My mother said—"
"Your mother's dead. For real this time. The people who killed her took everything from that room."
Celeste's face crumpled, then hardened again so fast I almost missed it. "You're lying. You took it. I saw Ghost pick it up." Smart girl. Too smart. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. Why do you care so much about what's on it?"
She tried to sit up, gasped in pain, and fell back against the pillows. "Because it's proof. Proof that my father didn't kill himself. Proof that someone killed him and framed me. Proof that everything I've lost wasn't my fault."
"Or proof that your mother was insane and made up a conspiracy theory before getting herself killed."
"Then why are you running?" She glared at me with those ice-blue eyes. "If you think she was crazy, why are we hiding?"
Because she wasn't crazy. Because everything Evelyn Armitage said had the ring of truth, even if I didn't want to believe it. Because if the Council was real, then my entire kingdom was built on stolen ground.
"We're hiding," I said slowly, "because someone wants us dead. That's all I need to know right now."
Celeste laughed, bitter and broken. "You're scared. The big bad crime king is actually scared."
"Yes." The word came out before I could stop it. "I'm scared. Because I've lived twenty years in this world by trusting no one and questioning everything. And right now, I don't know who to trust or what to question. I don't know if you're a victim or a player. I don't know if your mother was trying to save you or use you. I don't know anything except that keeping you alive feels more important than anything I've ever done."
She stared at me like I'd spoken a strange language.
Then her eyes rolled back and she passed out again.
"Celeste!" I grabbed her face, checking her pulse. Still there. Still fighting.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I almost didn't answer. Then instinct—that same instinct that had kept me alive this long—made me pick up.
"Hello, Dante." Victor's smooth voice poured through the speaker like poison. "I think you have something that belongs to me. A flash drive, perhaps? Covered in blood?"
My blood turned to ice. "How did you—"
"I know everything, old friend. Where you are. Where you're going. What you're thinking right now." He paused. "I also know that Celeste Armitage is bleeding in your bed. Nasty wound. Infection's probably setting in. She'll be dead by morning without proper medical care."
"What do you want?"
"Simple trade. The flash drive for the cure. You give me what I need, I give you the medicines that will save her life. You have one hour to decide."
"And if I refuse?"
Victor laughed. "Then we'll see how much the great Dante Morelli really cares about his newest pet. One hour, Dante. Choose wisely."
The line went dead.
I looked down at Celeste—unconscious, burning with heat, dying slowly in front of me.
Then at the closed door, where Ghost was probably studying that flash drive right now.
One would save her life. The other might save both our souls.
I had one hour to decide which mattered more.
And I had absolutely no idea what the right answer was.