Chapter 11: The Dorian Collective

The Last Time We Were

“The one place Dom and I never once traveled together, but always knew apart,” said Harvey. He twirled the key between his fingers, one slow turn at a time. “Dom wrote that in his will...word for word.”

Manetti clutched the steering wheel, hands at twelve and five. His unmarked Crown Vic idled at the far end of a long stretch of asphalt, plumes of exhaust starting white then disappearing into the darkness.

“Dom was a smart guy, Harvey. He’s giving information that you—and only you—can understand. I can’t help you even if I wanted to.”