Dante and Raven took off running, dodging between rooftop air vents and rusty AC units. The city hummed in the distance below, unaware of the mayhem raging overhead.
"We can't do this forever!" Raven gasped.
Dante's gaze swept the rooftop. "We won't need to."
He saw a fire escape in front of them, descending into a dark alley. In a heartbeat, he yanked Raven toward it.
"Fire escapes and you," Raven grumbled. "You need a different escape plan altogether."
"Gripes after. Go now."
Bullets pinged against metal behind them as they sprinted up the rickety ladder. Dante went first, sliding down like a pro. Raven, by contrast, came close to stepping on her own feet as she descended.
No sooner had they landed on the alley floor than Dante pushed a nearby dumpster over, covering the ladder.
"That's not going to hold them for long," Raven warned.
"It doesn't have to."
Dante pulled her into a side street just as the first of Morelli's men reached the fire escape. Shouts rang out, but by the time the men cleared the alley, their targets had already disappeared into the crowded streets.
Blending into the night, Dante and Raven slipped into a sea of people, vanishing into the city.
For the moment, they were safe.
But Morelli wasn't the type of man to let things drop.
And they both knew—this wasn't finished yet.
Dante and Raven navigated through the packed, action-filled streets with ease, their breathing very slightly labored but impressively controlled. Blurred in shades of color through the bright neon glow of city lights, the two of them moved quickly—but not necessarily enough to draw even the slightest cause for suspicion. They knew their limits well enough to realize they could not and would not get away with bringing any sort of unwanted attention onto themselves.
After a few blocks, Dante brought them to a darkened alleyway off to the side of a 24-hour laundry mat. Soap and damp concrete filled the air. It was nothing much, but it was quiet, and above all, it was cover.
Raven leaned back against the cold, unforgiving surface of the brick wall, resting her aching shoulder against her hand. "All right, let's just stand here for a minute and catch our breath before I actually die of fatigue," she panted, allowing the fatigue to overtake her. "We did manage to shake them, didn't we?"
Dante slowly poked his head around the corner, peering down the street. No Morelli's goons in view. He exhaled slowly. "For now."
Raven cursed, sliding down to sit on the rocky ground below. "Okay, let's try the next one: why in the world would Morelli's men begin harassing me out of the blue?" she complained, throwing up her hands in frustration. "That forklift incident was only a few months ago. I swear I thought he'd have long since forgotten about it or maybe just decided to be mad at me for the rest of eternity like any reasonable person would!"
Dante folded his arms, his expression unreadable. "Morelli doesn't forget, Raven."
"True, I know the case of the crime lords and the resultant grievances—it's evident to me. But if indeed he wanted to attack me out of malice, then I fail to see why he didn't do it long back?"
Dante hesitated.
Raven narrowed her eyes. "Oh, no. I recognize that face. That is the 'I know something you don't' face. Come on, spit it out."
Dante exhaled a deep breath, smoothing his hair. "Morelli had other issues he was attending to. His mind was elsewhere. But something shifted."
Raven sat up straighter. "Like. what sort of something?"
Dante, leaning against the cold, hard wall, stopped to choose his words with great care and precision, well aware of the seriousness they carried. "A few weeks ago, one of Morelli's most trusted lieutenants—Dominic Russo—was eliminated in a sudden and brutal turn of events. Nobody really knows for certain who was responsible for this deed, but Morelli is positive that the murderer must have been somebody from within his own syndicate, a betrayal that cuts very deep."
Raven frowned. "Alright… and how is that connected to me?"
Dante gave her a knowing look.
Realization set in. "Oh, no. No, no, no—don't tell me he thinks I had something to do with it!"
Dante shrugged his shoulders carelessly, as if the incident was of little consequence. "The timing is too coincidental. You managed to embarrass him quite thoroughly with that forklift trick, losing him millions of dollars in lost business, and then—all within a matter of a few months—one of his most valuable top guys is taken out? Morelli probably figures you were working for someone else, attempting to take him out piece by piece."
Raven sighed with frustration, her expression twisted in dismay as she passed a tiredly clenched hand over her cheek. "That's not fair to me. I'm not really even that organized to begin with, I swear!"
Dante grinned. "Yeah, I know."
She looked at him. "Wow. Thanks."
He pushed himself away from the wall with a firm movement. "Listen, it doesn't matter in the least what we might think of this situation. What matters here is that Morelli is dead certain of his convictions, and that certainty means he won't give up on you until he thinks you have been properly dealt with."
Raven took a deep breath, her thoughts whirling. "So what do we do? Beg for mercy? Pretend to be dead? Run away to a deserted island and eat coconuts?"
Dante folded his arms. "First, we get to a safe place. Then, we determine how to establish that you're not a threat."
Raven breathed out. "Fine. And how do we do it?"
Dante's phone rang. He looked at the screen, his face growing stern.
"By finding out who really murdered Dominic Russo."
Raven slowly blinked, her eyes opening wide in understanding. "Oh. Oh, no. You're not going to drag me into something that's going to be so much worse, are you?"
Dante shoved his phone into his pocket. "Let's go."
With a theatrical sigh, Raven struggled to her feet. "I should have just stayed home tonight."
Dante smiled. "Too late for that."
As they vanished into the darkness, one thing was certain—Morelli's rage was only the beginning. In addition, they were on the verge of being drawn into a situation infinitely more complex and charged than either of them had originally forecast or even desired.