Chapter 5
The FBI safe house smelled like stale coffee and broken dreams.
"You're stalling, Rossi." Morrison slammed a small vial onto the metal table between us. "Drug his wine tonight. We move in and arrest him."
I stared at the clear liquid, my stomach churning. "I need more time to investigate—"
"You've been on site for two weeks, Rossi." His voice was sharp with suspicion. "Are you developing feelings for the target?"
My heart hammered, but I kept my expression neutral. "Of course not. I just need more direct evidence."
"Evidence?" Morrison's laugh was cold. "Aria, your father's blood is the evidence. And I've noticed your reporting frequency has dropped significantly."
Shit. He noticed.
I thought about Dante's eyes when he talked about his father, the pain so raw it made my chest ache. The way he'd protected me at the warehouse. Why was Morrison so eager to move now?
"I'm being thorough," I said carefully. "That's what good agents do."
Morrison leaned forward, his eyes hard. "Good agents follow orders. You have until midnight."
He left the vial on the table and walked out, leaving me alone with my guilt.
Back at the apartment, I sat in Dante's kitchen with the vial burning a hole in my pocket. He was cooking again, humming softly in Italian as he stirred something that smelled like heaven.
How am I supposed to poison someone who makes me dinner?
"You're quiet tonight, bella," he said without turning around. "Rough day at work?"
If only he knew.
"Just tired." I watched him move around his kitchen like he belonged there, graceful and domestic. Nothing like the monster Morrison painted him to be.
"You know," he said suddenly, "you remind me of someone my father used to talk about. A police friend of his had a daughter—said she was brave, like a little warrior."
My blood turned to ice. Father... really knew him?
"That's... nice," I managed.
He turned to look at me, and those amber eyes were so gentle I wanted to cry. "He would have loved you."
Stop. Just stop being perfect for five seconds.
When he went to open the wine, I knew it was now or never. My hand shook as I pulled out the vial, my training warring with my heart.
This is my job. My duty. For Dad.
I slipped the drug into his glass while he was getting plates, hating myself with every second that passed.
"Salute," he said, raising his wine.
"Cheers," I whispered, watching him drink my betrayal.
It took twenty minutes for the drug to take effect. Dante's movements grew sluggish, his words slightly slurred.
"Feeling okay?" I asked, guilt eating me alive.
He looked at me with those beautiful eyes, now heavy with the drug, and smiled sadly.
"I've known since day one that you're FBI, Aria Rossi."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
"What?" I gasped.
"Your father... Antonio Rossi..." His voice was growing weaker, but his eyes never left mine. "I knew him. He was a good cop... my father's friend..."
No. No, that's not possible.
"They worked together," he continued, swaying slightly. "To fight corruption... to protect people..."
Suddenly, a memory I'd buried deep surfaced. After Dad's funeral, his partner Tony had pulled me aside.
"If you ever want to know the real truth about what happened, kid, call me. Your dad... he was involved in something bigger than you know."
I'd never called. The pain was too much, and I'd chosen the FBI's version instead. Easier to hate than to question.
But now...
Dante was losing consciousness, his head falling forward. With his last bit of strength, he looked up at me one final time.
"Morrison... is the mole..."
Then he collapsed.
I stared at his unconscious form, my world crumbling around me. Everything I thought I knew, everything I'd believed...
What the hell have I done?