Chapter 4 - The Rat in the House
The rain poured relentlessly from the black sky, turning the gravel drive of the estate into mud. The autumn wind howled through the towering oaks surrounding the perimeter, but inside the great hall, the air was deathly still.
Isabella knelt on the Persian rug in the center of the drawing room.
Her designer silk blouse was torn at the shoulder, her perfectly styled blonde hair falling in disheveled strands across her face. Two of my soldiers stood behind her, their assault rifles held across their chests.
When I walked into the room, she looked up. The arrogance that usually defined her features had completely vanished, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated terror of a cornered predator.
"Alessandro," she whimpered, her hands bound tightly with zip-ties behind her back. "Please. You have to understand. Roberto forced me into it! He was my husband—what choice did I have?"
I didn't answer. I walked slowly to the mahogany bar, poured two fingers of bourbon into a crystal glass, and drank it down in a single swallow. The burn in my throat was nothing compared to the fire in my blood.
"Roberto has been rotting in the family crypt for five years, Isabella," I said, setting the glass down on the polished wood. The click echoed like a gunshot. "Who forced you to keep Sofia in chains after he died?"
"It was Vance!" she cried, her voice cracking into a shriek. "Julian Vance threatened to kill me! He threatened to kill my family! He said if I didn't help him keep her hidden until the trust matured, he would slaughter everyone I loved!"
I walked over and stopped two feet from where she knelt. I looked down at her with cold, unblinking detachment.
"Do you know what I remember most about the night Sofia disappeared?" I asked softly. "I remember you sitting on the sofa in the library, holding my hand while I wept. You brought me coffee. You told me God had a plan. You helped me pick out the white roses for her casket."
Isabella trembled, pressing her forehead against her knees. "Alessandro, please—"
"For seventeen years," I continued, my voice dropping an octave, "you lived in my house. You spent my money. You went to charity galas, wore diamonds purchased with blood, and slept in a bed twenty yards away from where my eighteen-year-old sister was being drugged and assaulted."
I drew my weapon, the cold steel clicking as I racked the slide.
The guards in the room didn't flinch. They had all served under me for years. They knew the code of our family: betrayal from within was punishable by death without trial.
"Where did Vance take her?" I demanded.
"I don't know!" she screamed. "I swear to God, Alessandro, I don't know! They used the maintenance tunnel under the sub-cellar! Vance has a boat waiting at the private dock near the inlet!"
I checked my watch. Exactly eighteen minutes had passed since Lily had handed me the button in the foyer.
"Marco," I said, not taking my eyes off Isabella.
"Boss," Marco stepped forward.
"Is the perimeter sealed?"
"The gates are locked down," Marco reported grimly. "Enzo’s men are sweeping the woods. But Boss... the private dock sits outside our primary security fence. It connects to the old Prohibition drainage conduit. If Vance had a team stationed down there, they could have reached the water five minutes ago."
Before Marco could finish his sentence, the heavy mahogany doors of the drawing room swung open.
One of my perimeter guards, drenched in rain and breathless, hurried in. "Don Alessandro! We intercepted a black SUV attempting to breach the north gate. The driver was neutralized, but we recovered a satellite comms unit from the vehicle. It's ringing."
I holstered my weapon and held out my hand. The guard handed me the rugged, waterproof radio.
I pressed the speaker button.
A low, gravelly laugh crackled through the static.
"Alessandro," the voice drawled. It was Julian Vance. Smug, arrogant, completely devoid of fear. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find my breadcrumbs. I have to admit, your little niece ruins operational security better than any federal agent I've ever hired."
A heavy silence descended upon the room. The men around me tightened their grips on their weapons, their knuckles turning white.
"Julian," I said, keeping my voice completely devoid of emotion. "You are currently standing on Moretti soil. You have stolen something that belongs to me."
"Belongs to you?" Vance laughed, a wet, mocking sound. "Sofia stopped belonging to you the day your brother sold her to me for forty pieces of silver. She’s an asset, Alessandro. A very lucrative one. In six days, her trust unlocks. Two hundred and fifty million dollars in unmarked European bonds. Once the funds transfer to my accounts in the Cayman Islands, she’s of no use to me."
"If you harm a single hair on her head," I said, "I will skin you alive in front of your own men."
"Always so dramatic," Vance sighed. "Here’s the deal, Moretti. You want your sister back? You sign over the Brooklyn maritime shipping terminals to me. All of them. Unconditional transfer of deed, signed by your hand and ratified by the Five Families council. You do that, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll leave Sofia in a hospice somewhere for you to visit her while she drools into a cup."
"And what about Lily?" I asked coldly.
There was a brief pause on the line. Then Vance chuckled. "Ah. The little bastard. Isabella told me the brat ran into your arms. Keep her. Consider it a gift from her father. A reminder of what happens when you let your guard down."
My vision turned red around the edges, but my voice remained steady as granite. "You talk too much, Julian."
"We meet at midnight," Vance snapped, dropping the playful tone. "Pier 42. Bring the signed deeds, or I feed Sofia to the fish in the East River. And Alessandro? Come alone. If I see a single Moretti soldier within five blocks of that pier, your sister dies before you even put your car in park."
The line went dead.
I handed the radio back to the guard. The room was so quiet you could hear the rain tapping against the glass.
I turned back to Isabella, who was watching me with wide, terrified eyes.
"You heard him," she whispered. "He's going to kill her anyway. He never keeps his promises! Alessandro, give him the terminals! You have enough money—just give him what he wants!"
"I will give him what he deserves," I replied.
I looked at Enzo. "Take her down to the lowest holding cell. Strip her of her jewelry and her clothes. Give her the same grey prison smock Sofia wore. If I survive tonight, I will decide how she spends the rest of her miserable life."
"Alessandro! No! Please!" Isabella shrieked as Enzo hauled her to her feet and dragged her out into the shadows. "ALESSANDRO!"
Her screams faded down the marble corridor.
Marco stepped up to my side. "Boss, Pier 42 is an open kill-zone. It's surrounded by abandoned cranes and shipping containers. Vance has had that dock fortified for three years. If you go in there alone, you're walking into an execution."
"I know," I said.
I turned and looked toward the corner of the room. Rosa stood in the doorway, holding Lily in her arms. The little girl was watching me with an intensity that seemed impossible for a three-year-old.
I walked over to them and crouched down once more.
"Lily," I said gently.
"Mister Giant," she whispered. "Are you going to fight the bad men?"
"Yes," I told her honestly. "I am."
Lily reached into her pocket again. She pulled out a small, crumpled piece of yellow paper—a crayon drawing. It showed a tall, boxy figure with black hair holding hands with a smaller figure in a purple dress, standing beneath a massive golden sun.
"Take this," she said, pressing it into my hand with absolute seriousness. "It keeps the monsters away. Mommy told me."
I looked at the drawing, feeling a crack form in the impenetrable armor I had worn around my heart for seventeen years. I folded the paper carefully and slipped it into the inside pocket of my jacket, right next to the golden button.
"Thank you, sweetheart," I whispered. "I'll keep it safe."
I stood up and looked at Marco.
May you like
"Call the family captains," I commanded. "Every soldier, every shooter, every favor we are owed in this city. Tell them the Moretti family is going to war."
***
