Dante’s POV

The roar of the engine drowned them all but did nothing to cover up the thumping in my chest. Fingers closed around the gun remaining in my hand, knuckles pale and taut. Antonio was still alive. That fact tormented me, nagged on me, like a knife on bone. He should have died. I should have pulled the trigger while I could. But the sirens had driven me, driven me to flee. And now, he stayed. Still a threat. Van drove in silence, his fingers clutching the steering wheel tightly, ...