Chapter 6 - The Setup
Dante moved like a phantom. Before Victor could take another step toward Lily, Dante stood between them, his towering frame completely obscuring the child from view.
“She’s four years old, Victor,” Dante said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion, his eyes chillingly calm. “She likes playing with toys and telling stories. Children say strange things when they spend too much time around old houses.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed into slits, darting between Dante and the shadowed doorway where Elena had quickly rushed in to pull Lily away. His instincts, honed over three decades of street violence, screamed that something was wrong. But Dante’s expression was an impenetrable mask of mild amusement.
“You’re letting domestic servants run wild in your home, Dante,” Victor muttered, smoothing his tie and forcing a dismissive laugh. “It looks bad. Makes you look unfocused before a major summit.”
“I’ll have a word with her mother,” Dante replied evenly. “Go home, Victor. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning, you and I take Mott Street together.”
Once Victor’s black sedan rolled past the iron gates and onto 74th Street, the atmosphere inside the mansion shifted instantly.
Marco entered the study, pulling a tactical radio from his vest. “He swallowed the bait, but he’s suspicious. His men are mobilizing extra vehicles around his warehouse in Queens.”
“He knows the walls are closing in,” Dante said, walking over to the window to watch the rain lash against the glass. “He’s going to bring heavy firepower to Mott Street tomorrow, intending to ambush us before the meeting even starts. He wants to execute me on the restaurant stairs, blame it on the Philadelphia delegates, and take control before anyone can investigate.”
“Then we don’t go to Mott Street,” Marco said firmly. “We strike his Queens warehouse tonight while he’s off-guard.”
“No,” Dante countered, turning around with a look of absolute authority. “If we hit him in the shadows, half the capos will believe I turned on my father’s oldest friend without cause. The families will fracture into open warfare. We must expose him publicly, in front of all five families, where his betrayal cannot be denied or rewritten.”
Dante walked downstairs to the kitchen, where Elena was rocking Lily in a rocking chair by the warm stove. Lily was peacefully asleep, exhausted from the tension of the day.
Dante knelt beside them, looking at the sleeping child. “Tomorrow morning, I am ending the nightmare that took Jorge from you, Elena. But I need you to trust me with one more thing.”
May you like
Elena looked into Dante’s dark eyes, seeing neither cruelty nor mob arrogance, but the fierce honor of a protector. “What do you need, Señor Moretti?”
“I need Lily’s shoebox,” Dante said softly. “Her drawings are the only evidence that can speak louder than a hundred loaded guns.”
