Chapter 21 - The Red Crayon’s Warning
Two weeks following Victor’s final arrest, the city of New York felt like a different world. The corrupt network that had strangled both the docks and city hall had been thoroughly dismantled. The newspapers dubbed Elena Castellanos "The Iron Lady of Red Hook," while Dante Moretti was increasingly spoken of not as a ruthless underworld chieftain, but as an untouchable protector of justice.
Yet Dante knew that power never leaves a vacuum without a struggle.
In the sun-drenched sunroom of the 74th Street mansion, Lily sat cross-legged on the floor, humming cheerfully. Her golden dolphin scissors were resting on a velvet cushion beside her, but today she was using a fresh box of wax crayons.
Dante sat nearby on a leather sofa, sipping an espresso while reading the morning papers.
Suddenly, Lily stopped humming. Her small hand began to move with frantic, aggressive strokes. She pressed down so hard with a bright red crayon that the wax tip snapped in half with a sharp click.
Dante set his coffee down instantly. He had learned never to ignore Lily’s shifts in mood.
"Lily?" Dante asked softly, walking over and kneeling beside her. "What are you drawing, sweetheart?"
Lily didn't look up immediately. Her breathing was fast, her little brow furrowed in deep distress. She smoothed the paper flat with her palms and turned it toward Dante.
Dante’s blood ran cold.
The drawing showed the grand entrance of St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue, where the annual Catholic Charities Gala was scheduled to take place that evening—an event where Dante and Elena were to be honored as primary benefactors for the newly established Jorge Castellanos Orphan Fund.
In the center of the drawing, walking up the marble steps, was Elena in an emerald-green dress. But towering directly above her on the cathedral’s Gothic spire was a silhouette colored in violent red, holding a heavy glass bottle with a skull drawn on the label. Spilling down from the bottle toward Elena’s head was a shower of crimson droplets.
And at the bottom of the page, drawn with chilling detail, was a woman’s hand with long black fingernails, holding a golden compact mirror with a carved serpent on the lid.
"The snake lady," Lily whispered, her eyes wide with real fear. "She was sitting behind us in the church when Father Thomas was blessing Mami’s rosary yesterday. She smelled like burnt roses."
Dante gently took the drawing, his mind racing through every known player in the Five Families and international syndicates. A woman with black nails, the serpent compact, the scent of burnt roses...
"Lucia Morello," Dante hissed under his breath.
Lucia was the widow of Don Morello of Philadelphia, who had died of a heart attack during the Mott Street purge trials. Lucia was a ruthless chemist by training who had inherited her husband’s private syndicates in Atlantic City. She had openly blamed Dante for her husband’s downfall and had vowed vengeance on the Moretti name.
"Marco!" Dante shouted, his voice echoing through the mansion with thunderous urgency.
May you like
Marco appeared in the doorway in two seconds. "Yes, boss?"
"Cancel our public arrival at St. Patrick’s tonight," Dante commanded, his eyes blazing with fury. "Lucia Morello is in New York. She isn't using guns. She’s using acid."
