Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER SHE KEPT SAVING
Dr. Rinaldi arrived carrying enough equipment to turn Eliza’s kitchen into a temporary veterinary clinic.
He confirmed that Nero had lost a dangerous amount of blood but would probably survive. The bullet had passed through the upper shoulder without entering the chest. Eliza’s pressure bandage and improvised sutures had prevented the wound from opening further.
“You bought him time,” the veterinarian told her.
Dante stood beside the window, saying nothing.
Eliza watched Nero’s breathing settle beneath sedation.
When the veterinarian finished, Dante ordered Victor and the other guard into the hallway.
Victor glanced toward Eliza.
“She’s a witness.”
“She saved Nero.”
“That doesn’t make her safe.”
Dante’s voice lowered.
“Neither does standing in my apartment after my dog warned you away from him.”
Victor left without answering.
The moment the door closed, Eliza faced Dante.
“What did Owen do for you?”
“He drove trucks.”
“My brother loses his keys twice a week.”
“He remembered them when money was involved.”
Dante explained that Owen had begun working temporary warehouse shifts six months earlier. He was bright, personable, and eager to prove he could handle more responsibility. Within weeks, he was driving sealed deliveries between Moretti properties.
Eliza had known about a warehouse job.
She had not known whose warehouse.
“Owen said the company belonged to a family named Marino.”
“He lied.”
“That doesn’t mean he attacked anyone.”
“No. It means lying came easily.”
Eliza looked toward Nero.
“What happened last night?”
Dante said he had scheduled a private inspection at a warehouse near the river after discovering missing shipments and falsified invoices. Only five people knew the time.
Before he arrived, armed men entered through a side gate.
Two guards were injured.
Nero attacked one of the shooters, then vanished during the confusion.
“So Owen rescued him,” Eliza said.
“Or helped remove the only creature that saw who entered.”
“Dogs don’t testify.”
“No. But they remember scents, voices and fear.”
Dante’s gaze moved toward the hallway where Victor waited.
Eliza felt the meaning beneath his words.
“You don’t trust your own people.”
“I trust patterns.”
“So do I.”
She went to her bedroom and retrieved her phone.
Owen still had not answered.
His last message, sent two nights earlier, said:
Got extra work. Don’t wait up.
Eliza opened the banking application connected to the emergency account she shared with him. She had created it after their mother died, when Owen was nineteen and still drifting between community college classes and temporary jobs.
The balance should have been $12,600.
It was $143.
Three withdrawals had been made during the previous week.
The largest transfer went to a company named Lake Street Consulting.
Dante leaned over her shoulder.
“That company belongs to Rocco Bellandi.”
“Who is he?”
“My uncle.”
The answer carried no affection.
Dante explained that Rocco had helped build Moretti Cartage with Dante’s father and managed several warehouses until Dante removed him from daily operations two years earlier.
“Why?”
“He stole.”
“And you let him stay involved?”
“He is my mother’s brother.”
Eliza almost laughed at the contradiction.
“You break into my apartment because you don’t trust family, but you kept a thief in yours because he was family.”
Dante did not defend himself.
A message appeared on Eliza’s phone from an unfamiliar number.
DON’T LET THEM TAKE THE BULLET.
She typed Owen’s name.
The response came immediately.
I DIDN’T SHOOT NERO.
WHERE ARE YOU?
No answer.
Then another message appeared.
I LEFT HIM WHERE YOU WOULD FIND HIM.
Eliza’s hands went cold.
Dante read the words over her shoulder.
Owen had not stumbled into the same alley by accident.
He had brought the wounded animal close to Eliza’s home, knowing she would stop.
Knowing danger would follow.
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At the bottom of the screen, three final words appeared.
I’M SORRY, LIZA.
