Chapter 9 - The Cleanup
By midnight, federal agents on Dante’s payroll—men who answered to the federal government in name but to the Moretti syndicate in reality—had cleared the estate of the wreckage.
The bodies of the rival assassins had been quietly removed, the shattered marble repaired with emergency epoxy, and the perimeter security upgraded to military-grade specifications.
Elena sat in the master bedroom suite, propped up against the pillows while a private doctor finished bandaging Dante’s shoulder wound. Little Leo was finally fast asleep in his crib down the hall, worn out by the chaos of the day.
"The wound is clean," the doctor said, packing up his black leather bag. "Just keep him off that arm for a few days, Mrs. Moretti. No shooting guns, no wrestling with hitmen."
Elena managed a weak smile. "I'll make sure he stays out of trouble, Doctor. Thank you."
When the doctor left, closing the door softly behind him, Dante let out a long, shuddering breath and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Elena into the circle of his uninjured arm.
"Are you still angry?" he asked softly, staring down at her. "About the waitress job? About the last two years?"
"I was living in a damp basement apartment with a leaky faucet and a manager who yelled at me for dropping plates," Elena dryly noted, resting her head against his chest. "I think I have a right to be a little annoyed that my husband is a literal mafia kingpin who couldn't protect me from his own board members."
Dante flinched, the guilt darkening his eyes. "I thought you were dead, Elena. I searched every inch of this country. When my own men betrayed me and helped the Castellanos stage that hit... I executed every last one of them. But I couldn't bring you back."
"My mother saved me," Elena murmured, closing her eyes as the last pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in her mind. "She found me washed up near the river docks eighteen months ago, bleeding, with amnesia from a head injury. She took me in, forged new papers, and told me my past was a dangerous secret. She was trying to protect me."
"She kept you from me," Dante growled, though the anger in his voice was tempered by exhaustion.
"She kept us alive," Elena corrected gently. She looked up at him, her dark eyes flashing with the fire of the woman who had once ruled the Chicago underworld by his side. "And now we're going to finish what those bastards started. You're going to call a meeting of the syndicate council tomorrow morning."
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Dante raised an eyebrow, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his bruised face. "And what does my wife want to tell the council?"
"Tell them the queen is back," Elena said, pressing her palm against his chest right over his steady, powerful heartbeat. "And she's taking back her throne."
