Chapter 6 - DANTE HAD A CHANCE TO KILL THE MAN WHO BETRAYED HIS FAMILY, BUT CAMILLE MADE HIM CHOOSE WHAT KIND OF MAN HE WANTED TO BE
The cold-storage building did not explode.
Because nobody gave Marco the opportunity.
Chicago police, federal agents, bomb technicians, and Bellini corporate security working under law-enforcement direction surrounded the property before Dante arrived.
That sentence alone probably saved several lives.
Camille did not go.
Dante insisted.
For once she agreed.
Her usefulness ended when guns entered the problem.
She stayed at a command office with Sofia and Michelle.
Sofia paced.
“Now I understand my brother.”
Camille looked up.
“What?”
“Waiting is horrible.”
“Yes.”
“He usually solves waiting by sending armed men.”
“I noticed.”
Sofia almost smiled.
Then an agent entered.
“Contact.”
Everyone stood.
Marco had called Dante from inside the warehouse.
Trevor was alive.
Tied to a chair.
Injured.
Marco demanded the hardware-wallet access and safe passage.
Dante did not have the phrase.
Camille did.
Or enough to recover it.
The drive contained a recovery fragment hidden inside metadata.
She had found it with forensic analysts.
Law enforcement did not intend to give Marco real access.
They prepared a controlled fake transaction environment.
But Marco wanted Camille on the phone.
“No.”
Dante said through the secure line.
Camille heard from the command speaker.
Marco laughed.
“She’s the only reason any of this works.”
Camille looked toward Ruiz.
He asked:
“Your choice.”
Good.
Not Dante’s.
Hers.
Camille nodded.
“Put me on.”
Sofia grabbed her wrist.
Then released immediately.
“Sorry.”
Camille squeezed her hand.
“I’m not going inside.”
The call connected.
Marco’s voice sounded calm.
“Camille Hunt.”
“Marco Bellini.”
“You ruined your own wedding.”
“No.”
“Trevor handled that.”
Fair.
“You have the phrase.”
“I have data.”
“I can access what you want.”
“Then transfer it.”
“No.”
Marco laughed.
“You people are all the same.”
“What people?”
“People who think rules matter once money is large enough.”
Camille looked toward Dante through the glass partition.
He was at the forward command location.
Listening.
“That is interesting coming from a man who built his life by stealing from his cousin.”
Silence.
Good.
Marco continued.
“You think Dante is better?”
“I think Dante has made bad choices.”
Dante heard.
His face did not change.
Camille continued.
“The difference is he is currently standing beside law enforcement instead of holding a bleeding man hostage.”
Marco’s voice hardened.
“You don’t know what Bellini is.”
“Neither do you.”
“I grew up with him.”
“And still apparently need explosives to compete.”
Ruiz gave Camille a look that probably meant stop antagonizing armed criminals.
Fair.
She softened.
“Marco.”
“What?”
“You want the money.”
“Yes.”
“You want out.”
“Yes.”
“If Trevor dies, your bargaining position gets worse.”
“Trevor’s bargaining position is already terrible.”
A sound came through.
Trevor.
Weak.
“Camille.”
Her stomach tightened.
She had not heard his voice live since the night before their canceled wedding.
“Trevor?”
“I’m sorry.”
Marco laughed.
“Romantic reunion.”
Camille ignored him.
“Are you hurt?”
Trevor breathed unevenly.
“Enough.”
Then:
“Don’t give him anything.”
Marco struck him.
Camille heard it.
Her entire body went cold.
Dante moved toward the tactical commander.
The commander held up one hand.
Wait.
Camille forced herself to continue.
“Marco.”
“What?”
“If you kill Trevor, the wallet becomes useless.”
“That’s a lie.”
“No.”
“The recovery structure requires Trevor’s live verification key.”
It did not.
Marco did not know.
“His biometric confirmation.”
Silence.
Ruiz stared at her.
Camille continued.
“If you hurt his face or hands badly enough to interfere with authentication, you may lose twelve million permanently.”
Marco’s breathing changed.
Money.
Useful.
Cruel.
It bought time.
Then Trevor said something unexpected.
“Marco.”
“What?”
“You never had twelve.”
Silence.
“What?”
Trevor started laughing.
Weakly.
“You idiot.”
“Half the balance moved three days ago.”
Camille’s eyes widened.
That was not in the files.
Marco exploded.
“What did you do?”
Trevor continued.
“I knew you’d betray me.”
“You—”
Sounds.
Movement.
Dante said sharply through his own channel:
“He’s losing control.”
Agents prepared.
Then Marco’s voice returned.
“Where?”
Trevor laughed.
“Ask Ryan.”
Marco went silent.
Ryan Mercer had already been taken into federal protection.
There.
New fracture.
Marco began shouting at someone inside.
Agents heard another voice.
Then gunfire.
One shot.
Two.
Tactical teams entered.
The command room erupted.
Camille stood frozen.
Sofia grabbed her hand.
This time Camille held on.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Three.
Then radio:
“Suspect down.”
Camille stopped breathing.
“Which suspect?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Then:
“Marco Bellini wounded.”
“Alive.”
“Trevor Hale recovered.”
“Alive.”
“Second armed subject in custody.”
“No detonation.”
Sofia started crying.
Camille sat.
Relief arrived without affection.
Trevor had betrayed her.
Used her.
Planned to disappear.
She still did not want him dead.
That distinction mattered.
Dante entered the command office forty minutes later.
He had blood on one cuff.
Not his.
Sofia went to him first.
He hugged her.
Then looked at Camille.
“Trevor is going to the hospital.”
“Will he live?”
“Yes.”
“Marco?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Dante looked surprised.
“You wanted Marco alive?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So he has to explain himself in rooms where he doesn’t control the rules.”
Something in Dante’s expression softened.
Then Camille noticed his knuckles.
Red.
“Did you hit someone?”
He looked almost guilty.
“One of Marco’s men tried to run.”
“And?”
“I assisted.”
“That sounds suspiciously sanitized.”
Sofia laughed through tears.
Dante ignored her.
Then Camille asked:
“Did you see Marco?”
“Yes.”
“Did you touch him?”
“No.”
“Want to?”
“Yes.”
Honest.
“What stopped you?”
Dante looked at her.
“Several federal agents.”
She waited.
He almost smiled.
“And something you said.”
“What?”
“Power and control are not the same thing.”
Camille became still.
Dante continued.
“I have spent most of my adult life believing power means nobody gets to take something from you without paying immediately.”
“Tonight I wanted immediate payment.”
“Then I realized Marco had spent years acting on the same belief.”
He looked toward the hallway where agents moved.
“So I let them take him.”
Camille nodded.
“Good.”
“That’s all?”
“What do you want?”
“A medal?”
“Maybe dinner.”
She stared.
Sofia slowly stepped backward.
“Oh.”
Dante’s face changed.
“I didn’t mean tonight.”
“Obviously.”
“I meant…”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
For the first time, Chicago’s feared Dante Bellini looked almost awkward.
Camille was not ready.
Not remotely.
The remains of her canceled wedding still sat in boxes at her mother’s house.
Trevor’s child was growing inside Dante’s sister.
A criminal investigation surrounded everyone.
So Camille answered:
“No.”
Dante nodded.
“Okay.”
No wounded ego.
No persuasion.
That mattered.
Then she added:
“Ask me again when my life is not active evidence.”
His mouth curved.
“Fair.”
Trevor survived.
After surgery, he requested to speak with Camille.
She refused for three weeks.
Then agreed once.
Police-approved.
Attorney present.
Hospital secure floor.
Trevor looked smaller.
Bruised face.
Arm in a sling.
No expensive suit.
No charm capable of surviving fluorescent lights.
Camille sat across from him.
“Why did you want me here?”
Trevor cried.
“I’m sorry.”
She waited.
“I loved you.”
“I believe you thought you did.”
That hurt him.
Good.
Not deliberately.
Truth often does.
“I got into something I couldn’t control.”
“You kept choosing it.”
“I know.”
“You had months.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me.”
“I know.”
“You could have told Sofia.”
“I know.”
“You could have gone to the police.”
“I know.”
Camille leaned back.
“So don’t tell me it got out of control.”
“Tell me you kept making choices until consequences became larger than your ability to manage them.”
Trevor closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Then:
“Is Sofia keeping the baby?”
Camille stared.
“That is none of my business.”
“Will she let me—”
“Trevor.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You do not get to use me as a messenger.”
His face fell.
Good boundary.
“Your relationship with Sofia and the child goes through lawyers, doctors, courts, and whatever Sofia decides within the law.”
“Not me.”
He nodded.
Then:
“Do you hate me?”
Camille thought.
“No.”
Trevor looked surprised.
“I don’t want to spend that much energy on you.”
His eyes filled.
She stood.
“I hope you tell the truth.”
“Not because it earns you another chance with me.”
“It won’t.”
“Because maybe truth is the first useful thing you can give anyone after all this.”
Then she left.
Trevor later accepted a cooperation agreement.
He pleaded guilty to fraud, conspiracy, identity-related offenses, unlawful restraint connected to Sofia’s confinement, and other financial charges.
Marco faced much greater charges.
Ryan cooperated and received reduced exposure.
The Bellini companies entered independent audits.
And Dante?
His own choices came under examination too.
May you like
Camille watched carefully.
Because the man asking her to dinner was not going to receive a romantic exemption from scrutiny.
