Rond Up

Dante

Two days before El’s first class at Tandon, Tony and I sit on the back porch of the safehouse. I roll a glass of scotch between my palms and stare at the trees I know hide Christos’ grave.

“I don’t think there’s another choice at this point,” I say.

“She was just kidnapped, Dante.” Tony takes a long pull of his beer. “Putting off college for a semester is a goddamn option.”

I shake my head. “She’d be devastated. And she fucking earned it, Tone. I’m not letting Camila take this from her.”

“And if you move her into the city, Camila only has the opportunity to take her life.” Tony rolls his eyes.

I sip my scotch. He’s been touchy since he found out about Henry. I know it’s the right move. Even if it scares the shit out of me.

“Has there been more activity?” I ask. “Or are we just hiding from shadows at this point?”

“Nothing huge.” Tony shakes his head. “I don’t fucking know what they’d do at this point. They’ve got the drug trade in a stranglehold. Everyone’s hiding from goddamn sh