Chapter 12 - The Silence in Cell Block D
The federal penitentiary loomed like a concrete monolith against the gray, stormy Chicago skyline.
Luca Moretti marched down the sterile, fluorescent-lit corridors of Cell Block D, flanked by Elias and two heavily armed federal guards who were firmly on the Moretti payroll. Luca wore a tailored black overcoat, his face carved from pure, unyielding granite. The message on the back of the photograph had mentioned Marcus Vance. If there was a larger syndicate pulling the strings—if there was a phantom organization capable of bypassing Luca’s elite estate security—Marcus knew about it.
Marcus had spent the last six months rotting in maximum security, entirely cut off from the outside world. Luca was going to extract every single name, every single location, and every single secret from the traitor's mouth, even if he had to break every bone in Marcus’s body to do it.
"He’s in solitary confinement, Mr. Moretti," the corrupt prison warden stammered, rushing to keep up with Luca’s furious, heavy strides. "He hasn't had a visitor, a phone call, or a piece of mail since the trial."
"Open the door," Luca commanded, his voice vibrating with lethal authority.
They reached the heavy steel door of Cell 402. The warden fumbled with his heavy ring of keys, his hands shaking violently under Luca's intense, murderous glare. With a loud, metallic clank, the deadbolt disengaged. The heavy iron door swung open, revealing the dim, suffocatingly small concrete cell.
Luca stepped inside, his fists clenched tight enough to shatter bone.
"Marcus," Luca growled into the shadows. "Your time is up."
There was no answer.
Elias reached out and flipped the harsh overhead light switch. The sudden burst of illumination revealed a scene that made even the hardened mafia boss freeze in his tracks.
Marcus Vance wasn't hiding. He wasn't cowering in the corner. He was sitting at the small metal desk bolted to the wall, completely motionless. His head was slumped forward, his open eyes staring blankly at the concrete wall. Black, frothy foam had dried around his lips and chin.
He was dead.
Luca stepped closer, his jaw tightening into a rigid line. Marcus hadn't committed suicide. The arrogant, cowardly traitor loved himself too much to end his own life. This was a professional assassination, executed perfectly inside a maximum-security federal prison cell.
"Boss," Elias called out, pointing a gloved finger toward the concrete wall directly in front of Marcus's lifeless body.
Luca looked up. Written on the gray concrete, smeared in what looked like Marcus's own blood, was a fresh, chilling message.
"The Obsidian Syndicate leaves no loose ends. Your Queen is next."
Luca’s heart hammered against his ribs. The Syndicate hadn't just infiltrated his home; they owned the federal prison system. They were erasing their tracks, silencing their pawns, and preparing to strike the heart of the Moretti family.
Luca pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing Hannah's number with frantic, desperate speed.
"Pick up, Hannah," Luca whispered fiercely. "Pick up the damn phone."
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The line rang endlessly, echoing the cold silence of the dead man's cell, until it finally clicked over to voicemail.
👉 Luca is miles away from the estate, but what terrifying ambush is already unfolding around Hannah at her pediatric clinic?
