Yellowstone: Wind in the Smoke

It was impolite not to accept dinner with a family member when there was nothing more pressing to do. Besides, Dante was curious to learn more about his friend's peculiar wife.

But something unexpected happened when he entered Kayce's family cabin. He encountered Robert's family—the man he had killed.

Dante had never hesitated to eliminate his enemies. If someone dared to cross his path, or worse, threaten his family, he wouldn't think twice about wiping out entire groups if necessary.

The blood spilled in the streets and the bodies left behind were a clear message: you don't play with the leader of the Sons of Anarchy.

Dante was cold, efficient, and ruthless.

But even he had a line he couldn't cross without feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. It wasn't the act of killing that troubled him, but the theater that followed with those left behind.

Pretending everything was fine in front of children, wives, and parents of people he had erased was something he still struggled to reconcile. Those innocent, ignorant stares were a constant reminder that he wasn't completely inhuman.

No matter how often Dante told himself those people deserved it, that every bullet fired and every knife plunged was justice delivered by his hand, he still felt a simmering anger for being placed in these situations.

Dante wasn't a monster—at least, that's what he wanted to believe. He only killed those who earned it. Yet the chasm between his morality and his need to survive weighed on him, making it difficult to fully embrace the role of a good man.

"You didn't tell me there would be other people here. This is too much for me to act like nothing is going through my mind." Dante glanced at the family of the man he had murdered and forced a faint smile without saying a word.

Kayce, sitting by the TV, murmured, "Well, that's what I have to live with all the time, thanks to the baggage you handed me."

"Does your family often spend time with your brother-in-law's family?" Dante asked softly, noticing a child who wouldn't stop staring at him.

Sitting in the living room, Monica, who had refused his help in preparing dinner, was in the kitchen with the other woman.

Kayce leaned closer to Dante, wary of being overheard, and whispered, "Only at dinner. Monica has to teach classes at the Indian reservation."

"Does she carry a weapon?" Dante had limited control over the surrounding areas, and this ranch was particularly isolated from his cannabis farms.

"She's armed; she can protect herself."

"You should make sure to escort her back and forth until I can buy the surrounding ranches. My association isn't close enough to offer you support." Dante had already purchased all the land in front of his father's ranch, making him one of the largest landowners after John Dutton.

He wasn't idle, though—he was generating jobs, many of which benefited the Indian reservation. Workers from the reservation managed his yogurt factories, while his central employees tended the farms.

Though yogurt sales were insignificant, he sold it at a low price to those in need, earning the community's goodwill.

Unaware of all this, Kayce murmured, "I'm already a Son of Anarchy. I don't have my tattoo yet, but I'll get it soon."

"Now you share the ideology?" Dante hadn't imagined his brother Kayce would understand the Sons of Anarchy so quickly.

Everything had meaning, and Kayce's military background made it easier for him to grasp. Conversations at the motorcycle club meetings had opened his eyes.

"Dad, Mom says dinner's ready," Tate said as he approached with a friend.

Kayce nodded slightly. "Let's go eat."

Dante followed closely, but the child who had been staring at him suddenly said in a serious tone, "My grandpa said someone from the Dutton family killed my dad. It was probably you."

Time seemed to freeze as Dante heard those words. Kayce had the same reaction, momentarily unsure of what to do.

"Did your grandpa tell you that?" Dante asked the child coldly, his tone sharp.

"Dante, don't," Kayce murmured, recognizing the anger in his brother's expression.

"What else am I supposed to do? The people from the Indian reservation always blame our family for everything bad that happens. They point fingers at us just because we're Duttons." That night, Dante realized Monica's grandfather either knew or suspected that a Dutton had taken his son's life.

But all he had was suspicion—no proof. And that infuriated Dante because it directly implicated him in a crime that could jeopardize him.

"I should have a meeting with your wife's grandfather," Dante muttered as he watched the child run out of the room.

Kayce shook his head. "They'll forget."

"That kid hates me. Whatever the reason, I need to make it clear to that old man what the consequences of his resentment will be." Dante knew Monica's grandfather had another son, grandchildren, and a daughter.

He wouldn't harm the innocent, but he wouldn't hesitate to deliver threats.

"Is something wrong?" Monica approached the brothers, noticing they hadn't joined the others at the dining table.

Kayce forced a smile. "Nothing's wrong, honey. We were just talking about work."

"Oh, that can wait. The roasted venison is ready," Monica said, smiling nervously at a serious-faced Dante. She had always felt that, of all Kayce's brothers, Dante was the most mysterious.

There was always something he hid—a depth of emotion that sent chills down her spine. Though Kayce assured her Dante was the calmest of all his brothers, Monica felt otherwise.

But since this was her first meal with someone from her husband's family, Monica didn't want anything to ruin it and set those thoughts aside.

"You like venison, right?" Monica asked with a bright smile.

Dante nodded and replied sincerely, "It's one of my favorite dishes, right, Kayce?"

"Yes, that's what you said…" Kayce trailed off, realizing how easily his brother could lie. Of all his siblings, Dante was the most secretive and the one Kayce knew the least about.

What exactly had happened to his brother during those three years abroad?

"Come on, Tate, let's dig into that deer."

"Yeah, Uncle Dante!"