United Front

Dante

The scar along my ribs still burned when I breathed too deeply, a low, constant reminder of how close Hector had come to ending everything. The doctor had called it "good progress." I called it tolerable. Pain was easy to live with. Silence wasn't.

And the house had been far too quiet lately.

The De Leone mansion was never supposed to be quiet. It was built for chaos: for raised voices, clin