As she sat curled on the plush couch in the living room in more clothes that Amara brought for her yesterday, she watched the sunlight dance with the tall peaks of the buildings. It filtered in through the windows and warmed her, warming the entire apartment with its soft glow, Morana let her mind drift to the other thing she needed knowledge about.
The Alliance. Or rather, it’s demise.
The Alliance had been in place for so long, peaceful and beneficial to both the families involved, so why exactly had it ended? What had happened twenty-two years ago that had led to the end of one of the most lucrative associations in mob history? There hadn't been any wars. Morana had r
esearched for those and the last known war between the two families had been more than fifty years ago. It was the end of that war that had created the Alliance. For almost three decades, it had worked well.
So what had happened?
More importantly, what did that have to do with Tristan Caine hating her? How did everyone else know about it? She hadn't even known much about the Alliance, which was surprising considering she'd grown up listening to everything her father and his men had talked about. She’d known of the Outfit and its people through word of mouth. She’d known of the many players around their area through those conversations. So why had she never known of the Alliance? Had they purposely never mentioned it in front of her? Or was she imagining things? Why would her father hide from her the very thing that made his enemy despise her?
Morana picked up her phone and logged into her personalized search engine, continuing reading her old research on the topic quickly. She prayed for some good leads as she combed through the content.
The sound of the elevator opening jolted her from her search, making her hastily lock her phone. She looked up to see Dante’s huge form walk smoothly out the doors, his body in one of those pristine dark suits she’d come to associate with him. Morana tilted her head, considering the man, realizing she’d judged him a little too quickly in the beginning, her own prejudices covering the reality.
Just like Tristan Caine and her, Dante wore a mask on the outside. Being in his company for a few days, seeing the way he had reacted to her bruised body that night, what he’d done despite his misgivings, Morana had warmed to him. Though he was still the enemy, he had been good to her so far. And that was more than she could say for her own father.
Shaking off her thoughts, Morana waved at him and he strode forward to take the chair opposite her, his polite smile in place even though his dark eyes were less guarded than usual. Guess he’d warmed to her too.
“So, what is it you wished to discuss with me, Morana?” he asked in that same cordial tone he’d always used with her.
Morana played with her phone as she asked, already knowing the answer. “Do we have any leads about the codes?”
Dante shook his head. “No. There’s been a situation in Tenebrae, and everyone’s been busy handling that.”
Morana frowned. “That situation with the fake dealers who were pretending to be Outfit?”
“Yes.”
Morana pondered on that for a long moment, the wheels in her head turning rapidly. “Do you think it could be connected?”
Dante’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What could be connected?”
Morana sighed impatiently, leaning forward on her elbows, her mind racing as the dots started to make an odd kind of sense.
“All of this! Don’t you think it’s weird? The timing of it all? Someone pretends to be Mr. Caine and steals the codes from me, taking the extra efforts to frame him should the codes be used. Also, enough to get my attention, which had I not been me would’ve meant the attention of my family. And then someone pretends to be the Outfit where you guys used to do business and takes the profits while framing you for the losses. Really, what are the odds?”
How could she not have seen this before? There was a clear pattern. There was one person or one group doing all of this, one mastermind. But who were they trying to frame - Tristan Caine or the Outfit? Was it personal or was it bigger than that? And how did she figure into all of it?
Dante sat in stunned silence for a whole minute, absorbing what she’d said, the implications of what she’d said going through his head at breakneck speed. She could feel it even though his face refused to betray a thought. He and his blood brother were certainly alike in that regard.
“Could it be your father?” Dante finally broke the silence, asking the most obvious question.
Morana shook her head. “No. Had it been him, he’d have just ordered me to give him the codes and never let the whole Jackson-is-my-boyfriend-thing happen. That would hinder his greater agenda of getting me married to some asshole who wants a pristine, virginal mob bride.”
Dante’s mouth flattened in a hard line, his eyes dimming slightly. “That’s how this world works, Morana. I wish it didn’t. I’d give anything for it not to, but that’s how it is. You are truly lucky you could escape. Not everyone is.”
Morana looked at him, her heart softening as she remembered what Amara had told her in similar words.
Taking a deep breath before she could respond, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly done with whatever emotion he’d expressed. “Okay, so we have to consider the possibility, which is large, that these are all connected events and not isolated like we had been treating them to be. Thank you for that. Anything else?”
Morana shook off her own gloomy thoughts and inhaled. “Yes. I’m going to write a failsafe software that will prevent any consequences of the original codes since we can’t get it and destroy it. So this software will undo anything that one does once I initialize it.”
Dante raised his eyebrows. “Will it work?”
“In theory, it already does. Writing it is going to be a bit of a job though.”
He nodded. “Great. If that works, we’ll all sleep much better.”