Chapter 3 - THE VIPER IN THE VESTIBULE
While the kitchen hummed with a strange, charged harmony, the darker underbelly of the Moretti syndicate was restless.
On the eastern edge of Queens, inside a dimly lit private cigar lounge upholstered in crushed red velvet, Salvatore "Sal" Marcone slammed a heavy crystal glass down onto a marble table. Amber liquor sloshed over the rim, staining the white linen tablecloth.
"What do you mean, the dogs didn't tear her apart?" Sal snarled, pointing a thick, diamond-ringed finger at his head of intelligence, a greasy-haired fixer named Benny.
Benny shrank back into his leather booth, sweating profusely despite the air conditioning. "I’m telling you, Boss, it’s insane! We paid the broker to plant her there. The plan was for her to panic, get mauled by Titan, create chaos in the courtyard, and force Moretti’s security to look incompetent or trigger a lockdown right before the shipping audit next week."
"And instead?" Sal roared, leaning forward, his face turning an ugly shade of purple.
"Instead... she just knelt down," Benny whispered, terrified. "And the beasts... they acted like pets. Titan let her touch him! Moretti’s men are calling her a witch."
Sal’s eyes narrowed into venomous slits. He dragged a heavy cigar across his lips, inhaling deeply before blowing a thick cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling. For months, he had been trying to find a chink in Luca Moretti’s armor. Luca was too smart, too cold, too untouchable. Every insider Marcone had planted in the Moretti estate had been discovered and disposed of with terrifying efficiency.
This new cook—this Grace Walker—was supposed to be their ultimate trojan horse. A psychological disruption. A bleeding wound in the fortress walls.
"She’s not a witch, Benny," Sal muttered, a cruel, calculating grin spreading across his face. "She’s a liability. If Luca thinks he’s found a soft spot, if he starts caring about a fat little kitchen cook from upstate... then we don't need the dogs to kill her."
May you like
Benny swallowed hard. "What are you saying, Boss?"
"I'm saying," Sal chuckled darkly, stubbing out his cigar in an overflowing ashtray, "we find out what she loves. And then we burn it to the ground. Dig into her background. Every debt, every relative, every secret she left behind in that sleepy little town upstate. If she won't break the Moretti empire from the inside... she'll become the reason it burns."
