The Emperor (Dark Verse Book 3)

by RuNyx

  Tristan stayed silent for a beat. “You and Amara doing okay?”

  “What, you’re giving me relationship advice now?”

  He shrugged. “Communication and shit are important in relationships.”

  Dante looked at him in surprise. “Who are you and what have you done with Tristan?”

  He saw the fucker’s lips twitch.

  The sound of dogs barking had them both turning to see three large German Shepherds behind the glass doors, a giant man walking towards them. Dante rarely met anyone larger than he was, but this guy had a few inches over him, both in height and thickness. Dark black hair wavy around his fucked up face, an honest-to-god eye patch over one eye, the man screamed danger and dominance in ways that had Dante’s predatory instincts come to the fore.

  He put on the façade that had served him the best – the suave gentleman whom people tended to underestimate. People expected the Dante Maroni – the Wall of the Tenebrae Outfit, the son of Bloodhound Maroni, and grandson of Iceman Maroni – to be one vicious, arrogant, brutal motherfucker. He was all those things. But the suits, the manners, the charm always fooled them.

  The giant guy nodded to them both, extending one large, scarred hand towards him.

  “Alpha,” he spoke in a gruff voice, his one eye a dark gold, assessing them both. “Welcome to Los Fortis.”

  Dante shook his hand firmly. “Dante Maroni. This is Tristan Caine.”

  Alpha nodded to Tristan and waved them both to the covered area on the terrace with bamboo furniture. They all sat down, the dogs inside settling against the glass, watching their master and the strangers.

  “Quite a place you’ve built yourself here,” Dante commented, breaking the silence.

  Alpha just smiled, only one side of his lips and cheeks moving, the other permanently pulled down by the scar that ran under his eye patch. He was a survivor, this guy, and Dante had immediate respect for anyone who’d gone through shit to come out the other side.

  An old lady with weathered skin came out with a tray from the other side of the terrace, carrying steaming mugs of coffee and snacks. She gave all three of them a smile, speaking in her lilting accent. “The coffee is a local specialty. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you, Leah,” Alpha told her, his voice warming fractionally. Dante wondered for a second if he should drink or refuse, but Alpha told him. “I don’t poison guests, Mr. Maroni. That’s not my style.”

  Both he and Tristan took a steaming mug each and sipped. It was bitter but damn if it didn’t taste incredible.

  “Did your father finally tell you? Is that why you’re here?” Alpha asked, relaxed in his chair. The fact that he was relaxed, that there was no security, that he and Tristan hadn’t been stripped of weapons before meeting him told Dante exactly how lethal the man before him was. Unlike his father who had relied on his army of security to keep him safe, this man was a warrior king, who had amassed his army by fighting and winning.

  “What do you mean?” Dante asked, taking a sip of his brew.

  The man’s golden eye sharpened on him. “We share a father, Mr. Maroni.”

  Dante’s hand paused on the way to his mouth, his eyes honing in on the other man. “Excuse me?”

  Alpha laughed. “The bastard didn’t tell you.”

  Dante felt his fingers flex on the mug. He set it down on the table and leaned forward, his jaw clenching. “Explain.”

  The other man took pity on him. “My mother was a sex worker in Los Fortis, sending her younger sister to art school and keeping a roof over their heads. Lorenzo Maroni saw her one day on his visit to the city about thirty-three years ago, raped her, and left her pregnant. He also kidnapped her sister and took her with him. He married her.”

  Dante felt his heart cracking open, the ground beneath his feet shifting. He looked at the other man, truly looked at him, and saw the similarity – the dark hair, the jawline, the cheekbones, the nose, the build. He was looking at his half-brother.

  The fucked-up stories of his father’s selfish, monstrous actions made him want to raise the man from the grave and kill him again. One man’s monstrosity destroyed so many lives and counting.

  Fuck.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” Dante shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around everything.

  Alpha tilted his head to the side. “I thought you knew when I got the request for the meeting. Especially since one of your soldiers recently came to confirm the story with me.”

  “Nerea?” Dante asked. “She was here because she knew this? How?”

  Alpha shrugged. “She said she was looking into your mother’s past and came across me. I never had any intentions of telling you.”

  That brought him up short. “Why not? And why didn’t you ever contact me?”

  Alpha huffed a laugh, without amusement. “Oh, I did contact Lorenzo Maroni. When I was thirteen, on the streets, and my mother was dying, I needed money for her surgery, and as a last resort, I contacted him.” He put the mug down on the table. “And I got nothing except confirmation that he was a rotten asshole and we were better without him.”

  Dante felt his teeth gnash, his hands fisting. All this time, he’d had an older brother, a true heir to the empire he’d never wanted, and his father had fucked him up.

  “Anyways, why are you here, if not for a family reunion?”

  “Do you own any property near Tenebrae, Alpha?” Tristan spoke up for the first time, his voice tight. Dante took a deep breath and walked to the edge of the terrace, needing to wrap his head around everything.

  “No,” Alpha answered. “I never wanted to get anywhere near Maroni territory.”

  Dante didn’t know what to believe. While he could be telling the truth about his father, it could also be something to manipulate him and Tristan. If this man was in cahoots with the Syndicate, he could very well misdirect them.

  “Do you know anything about the Syndicate?” Dante turned, pushing his hands into his pockets, focusing on the reason for their meeting.

  Alpha stared at him evenly with one eye. It would intimidate a lesser man. “They trade children. But I have nothing to do with them. Why come to me?”

  “Because we found a house registered in your name where the Syndicate was initiating new members by raping a little girl,” Tristan stated, his hands fisted on his thighs.

  “Which name? Alpha or Alessandro?”

  “Alessandro,” Dante chimed in.

  He shook his head. “That’s not possible. Nobody in the underworld knows my given name. Everything I have is under Alpha or Alpha Villanova. Nobody knows Alessandro except my sentinels.”

  “You told Amara both your names,” Dante chimed in.

  Alpha’s eye came to him. “Ah, she’s yours. Good woman, but I gave her both the names thinking there might be more there.”

  Dante’s gut burned. Fuck, no. “She’s mine.”

  Alpha grunted. “Point is, I don’t know why anyone would buy a house in my given name and why the Syndicate would use it. I’ve heard of them, and in my business, we hear things. But I’ve never had contact with them.”

  “What is your business?” Dante asked, curious as to how a boy from the street with no money had amassed the compound he was standing upon.

  “Security and retrieval,” Alpha left it at that, and Dante almost smiled. Reclusive bastard.

  “The Syndicate is responsible for a lot of shit we’re just getting to know about,” Dante walked back to the seat, taking off his suit jacket in the warm weather. “Our father was working with them in some capacity, I don’t know how yet.”

  Pushing his jacket to the side, he leaned forward, looking his older brother in the eye. “Can I trust you, man to man?”

  Alpha’s eyebrow went up. “As long as you’re not like your father, I have no problem with you.”

  Dante nodded. Good enough. Any man who hated his father had a point in his book.

  “Twenty years ago,” he began,
“twenty-five girls were abducted from Tenebrae. One of them was Tristan’s sister, Luna. We know Lorenzo Maroni and Gabriel Vitalio gave the kids to the Syndicate, but we don’t know where she was sent. That’s who we’re looking for.”

  He saw Alpha’s eyes go to Tristan, softening slightly. “That’s hard. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is a high chance she’s not alive. A lot of kids who go with the Syndicate don’t survive. You have to be prepared for that possibility.”

  Tristan nodded, his jaw tight. “I am. But I want answers.”

  “And I want to know which motherfucker found my name and used me,” Alpha stated.

  “We have a hacker who can track that,” Dante informed the older man. “In exchange, you give us a lead. Deal?”

  Alpha considered him for a long second. “Okay, I’ll see what I can find.”

  Dante stood up, taking his card out of his pocket, handing it to the other man, hesitating. “My mother slit her wrists open in the room she used to paint in with our younger brother there. He has Asperger’s and he’s living a great life far away from this world. I had to sacrifice seeing him to protect him and now he doesn’t want to come back. I get that. He’s found a good woman and works as an architect from home, and has told me to keep myself and this world away from his life. We talk on the phone sometimes but we’re acquaintances. In protecting him as a brother, I failed him too. My point is, if you are my brother, I get why you didn’t tell me anything, but going forward, you decide how we operate – as brothers or as acquaintances. The choice is yours.”

  With that, Dante gave the bigger man a nod and walked to the stairs, Tristan on his heels.

  “Dante?”

  He paused and turned to see the man.

  “Congratulations on the baby.”

  Dante felt his lips curl, and with a nod, he descended, looking at Tristan. “You don’t look surprised.”

  Tristan moved easily beside him. “Amara kept touching her stomach last night. I suspected.”

  Dante looked at the incredible vista laid at his feet, the realization that it belonged to his brother staggering. “Do you believe his story?”

  “Yeah,” Tristan said. “He resembles your father a bit, except that one eye.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone with one eye,” Dante commented. “I hope he finds some leads for us. Have Morana look into him and the property deeply.”

  Tristan nodded just as his phone rang. Dante saw Morana’s name flashing and knew it was important. Those two liked to text more than talk on the phone, from what he’d observed.

  Tristan picked up. “Yes?”

  Dante almost felt his eye roll at the way he answered the love of his life. Tristan stiffened, pausing his downward descent, and Dante stopped as well, alert.

  “Send me the address. Dante and I will take the jet.”

  Dante waited for him to explain as he pocketed his phone. “The airport asshole sent her an address, telling her to get to it within 24 hours, or we’ll miss it.”

  Adrenaline flushed into Dante’s system. “Where?”

  “70 miles out of Tenebrae,” Tristan answered.

  The men exchanged a look and sprinted down the stairs, ready to raise some hell.

  Dante called for backup en route to the airport, glad to know Vin had returned and would bring three solid men to the airport at Tenebrae, from where they would all drive to the location. Maneuvering his Range Rover, Tristan at his side, Dante checked his rear-view mirror to see the two black SUVs from the compound tailing him as he drove out of the city limits, following the GPS directions.

  “Take the next exit off Portsmouth Avenue,” the robotic feminine voice said, and Dante followed, his shoulders in knots from five hours on the flight. He rotated his shoulders and cracked his neck, the sound loud in the silent vehicle. Stress balled in his gut, and it was from the unknown. Dante didn’t know if they’d be walking into a trap or a genuine lead. Worse, he didn’t know what kind of a lead. It could be anything from an abandoned place to a disastrous house like the last time.

  “You ready, buddy?” he asked Tristan in a deliberately light voice, goading him, knowing he was more stressed.

  Tristan just gave him a look but stayed silent, his hand holding his gun. Dante’s own was on the dashboard, waiting to be picked up and fired.

  “Turn left on Madison Boulevard,” the navigation said, and he turned left onto a dirt road off the main highway. Acres of farmland surrounded the path for a few miles before the woods began. Night fell over the sky, darkening the land enough to make it eerie, a full moon glowing brightly in the midst.

  “This feels like a gothic movie,” Dante noted, checking the map on the dashboard GPS.

  “Your destination is 2 miles ahead,” the voice said.

  Headlights shone their way as they entered the wooded area. A big, dilapidated wooden house came into view. The house was completely dark, abandoned.

  Dante stopped the vehicle, picked up his gun, and jumped out, shutting his door, hearing all the car doors shutting as everyone got out. The chill in the air raised the hair on the back of his neck, something dark roiling inside his gut as he looked at the house. It wasn’t just the setting or the house that was creepy, but the air around it was nefarious with screams unheard and stories untold. Dante had always kept his heart and senses open and they were all vibrating with tension at that moment.

  Giving the men behind him a nod, he exchanged a look with Tristan and motioned him forward with two fingers. Tristan nodded back, and they hunched down, keeping the tall grass as cover as they crept forward.

  A crooked board hung to the side of the house, its print faded. Dante squinted, trying to read the print but it was too faded to make out.

  “I see shadows by the right window,” Vin’s voice whispered low from behind him. Dante looked and saw some dark movement as well. On quiet footsteps, he crossed the yard and went up the porch, the wooden boards groaning under his weight, giving him away. Adrenaline pumping through his blood, Dante nodded back at his companions.

  Stealth lost, he raised his hands and pointed the gun straight, unlocking it, and kicked the door in. The poor state of the wood made the door crash in.

  Bullets fired from the inside and Dante took cover. His side was already grazed; he didn’t want another on his body, thanks very much.

  “Take them back,” he ordered Vin and two other guys, who ran around the back of the house. Dante bent low and took off his jacket, holding it in his hand, waiting.

  Another shot rang out from the inside, and pinning the location mentally, Dante straightened, throwing the jacket in the face of his assailant, blinding him momentarily, long enough to shoot out his knees.

  He looked at the Outfit soldier behind Tristan and ordered, “Disarm him, drag him out, and keep him alive for interrogation.”

  “Yes, boss,” the guy got to work, as Dante and Tristan went deeper into the dark house, only the moonlight coming in from the windows guiding them.

  “One guy blew his face off,” Vin’s voice came from the other side. “Another ran into the woods. Liam and Alek are on him.”

  Dante nodded, body strung tight, ears open, listening for any untoward sound. It was eerily quiet, no natural sounds of the night, nothing except his regulated breathing and the blood in his ears. But he could sense they weren’t alone. He felt eyes on himself, but couldn’t pin from where.

  “We have company,” he muttered softly to Tristan and Vin. “Stay close.”

  Walking forward, deeper into the house, he came to a foyer of sorts, with a staircase that went up, and began to climb. On the first floor, he checked each door, careful not to miss anyone. Vin took the second floor while Tristan stayed on the ground. In a few minutes, the house was checked and empty.

  “That was it?” Tristan asked softly. “We busted in for that guy outside? It doesn’t make sense.”

  No, it didn’t. They were missing something.

  The sound of a glass breaking from the ki
tchen had them all alert and running in the direction. They came in, the entire space empty, a glass broken over the floor, pieces shattered right over a trapdoor.

  Exchanging a glance with his companions, Dante squat down and gripped the metal handle which was surprisingly not cold to the touch, meaning someone had touched it recently and heaved it open.

  And looked down at eight pairs of innocent, terrified eyes looking up at them.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Vin mumbled. “Those are boys.”

  Those were boys indeed – young, not older than ten, dirty boys.

  “C’mon,” he cajoled in a gentle voice even as his blood boiled, extending his hand to one of them, putting his gun down. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

  One of the boys stuttered, “Will-will you take us home?”

  Fuck, his heart was going to come out of his fucking chest.

  “Yeah,” Dante promised. “We’ll send you boys home. C’mon out of there. It looks dirty.”

  “It smells bad too,” another boy said. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

  Before Dante could reply, a third boy, one with bright eyes the color of which Dante couldn’t make out, stated. “They are. He told me about the blue-eyed one,” he said, pointing to Tristan.

  “Who told you about him?” Dante asked, confused.

  “The Shadowman.”

  Amara was surprised when she got the call at nine.

  She and Morana had been lounging in Tristan’s cottage, talking about their lives and spending a girl’s night just being friends, chilling with another female companion, someone they had both never had in their lives.

  Amara had talked to her about her arrangement with Dante over the years, her accelerated degrees that had allowed her to get into practicing therapy, and her reasons for running away. Morana had confessed about her father's situation, about how lost she felt some days and how Tristan anchored her, about how she wondered about Gabriel’s actual daughter and her fate. They also talked about wedding plans while sipping on hot chocolate, and for the first time in her life, Amara felt how much having a true female friend did wonder for the soul. Morana was a true girlfriend of her heart, the kind who would drop everything and be there for her at any time of the day, the kind she could text the weirdest stuff and she would just text back weirder, the kind whom Amara could trust with her baby if one day something ever happened to her.