Chapter 17 - THE GHOSTS OF NEW YORK AND THE VENGEANCE OF THE FORGOTTEN
The man who stepped onto the terrace was not who I expected.
He wasn't a hitman in a cheap suit,
nor was he a tactical soldier in black gear.
He was young,
barely twenty,
with a face that bore a haunting resemblance to someone I had known in a previous life.
He wore a tailored Italian suit that cost more than most people made in a year,
but it hung off his thin frame like a shroud.
"Leo Valli,"
I said,
the name tasting like copper and old grudges.
The boy—Dominic's youngest grandson—stopped ten feet away from me.
His hands were shaking,
but his eyes were filled with a cold,
obsessive fire.
"You ruined us,"
he said,
his voice cracking with a mixture of grief and rage.
"You took my grandfather."
"You took my inheritance."
"You took the name Valli and turned it into a joke."
I leaned against the railing,
keeping my hands visible,
keeping my movements slow.
"Your grandfather took a lot more than money,
Leo."
"He took lives."
"He took families."
"He took the future of a six-year-old girl and tried to bury it under a pile of gold."
Leo reached into his jacket,
and I tensed,
my finger inching toward the trigger of my own weapon.
But he didn't pull a gun.
He pulled a folded piece of paper.
"My father killed himself three weeks ago,"
Leo said,
his voice trembling.
"He couldn't handle the shame."
"He couldn't handle the feds knocking on the door every morning."
"He left this for you."
I didn't move.
"Read it,"
I said.
"It’s not a letter,
Bennett,"
Leo spat,
tears finally beginning to track down his face.
"It’s a list."
"A list of the people who are still coming for you."
"The families you didn't destroy."
"The ones who stayed in the shadows while the Commission fell."
"They think you have the key to the rest of the offshore accounts."
"They think you’re holding the wealth of the five families in a digital vault."
I felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the sea breeze.
The ledger hadn't just exposed the crimes;
it had created a vacuum.
And in our world,
a vacuum is always filled by something more violent than what came before.
"Why are you telling me this,
Leo?"
I asked.
"Why not just kill me and take the glory?"
Leo looked at the list,
then at the sea.
"Because I’m tired,
Bennett."
"I’m tired of the blood."
"I’m tired of waking up wondering if today is the day I get a bullet in the back of my head."
"I didn't come here to kill you."
"I came here to tell you that there is no escape."
"Not for me."
"And not for you."
He threw the paper onto the table between us.
"They're coming tonight."
"Two boats."
"Twelve men."
"Led by a man named Cassian."
I knew the name.
Cassian was a butcher,
a man who didn't care about the rules of the old world.
He was the new breed.
The kind of man who would burn a whole village just to find one person.
"Go,
Leo,"
I said,
picking up the paper.
"Go back to the boat and disappear."
"If you stay here,
you’ll die in the crossfire."
The boy looked at me,
a flicker of something that might have been gratitude crossing his face.
"You’re a better man than my grandfather said you were,"
he whispered.
"I’m not a good man at all,
Leo,"
I said,
watching him turn and run back toward the path.
"I’m just a man who’s tired of burying people I know."
I went inside the villa,
the quiet of the house now feeling like a countdown.
Clara was in the hallway,
the bag over her shoulder,
the satellite phone in her hand.
She had heard everything.
"Twelve men,"
she said,
her face pale but her voice steady.
"We can't fight twelve men,
Bennett."
"We're not going to fight them,"
I said,
grabbing my tactical gear from its hiding place.
"We're going to make them wish they had never heard the name Hale."
The drama of our life had returned with a vengeance.
The maid and the boss were back in the line of fire.
But this time,
we weren't running.
May you like
We were preparing the ground.
And the Amalfi Coast was about to witness a different kind of history.
Related Stories
