Chapter 4 - The Uncle With the Wolf on His Back
Salvatore Moretti entered Belladonna carrying flowers.
That somehow frightened me more than if he'd entered carrying a gun.
He was sixty-one, silver at the temples, elegantly dressed, and handsome in the polished way of men who had spent decades learning exactly how others perceived them.
He opened his arms when he saw Adrian.
“My nephew.”
Adrian did not move.
Salvatore's smile weakened by half a degree.
Then his gaze found me.
“So this is Elena.”
My skin went cold.
“You've heard about me quickly.”
“My nephew becomes engaged without warning, half of Boston hears before breakfast.”
He offered me the flowers.
White roses.
I did not take them.
His eyes flicked toward my hand.
Toward Sofia Moretti’s diamond.
Something moved behind his smile.
Recognition.
Possession.
Maybe anger.
“You wear my sister’s ring.”
I looked at Adrian.
“It seemed convincing.”
Salvatore laughed.
“American women.”
“I am an American man,” Adrian said.
“Unfortunately.”
The two men smiled.
Neither expression contained warmth.
Isabella entered.
When Salvatore saw her, his shoulders stiffened.
“Mother.”
“Sal.”
He kissed her cheek.
She allowed it.
Barely.
My own mother stood several feet away, studying him.
Salvatore noticed.
“And you are?”
“Catherine Brooks.”
That was the moment.
Tiny.
But undeniable.
His pupils widened.
He recovered quickly.
“Should I know that name?”
Mom answered before anyone else.
“My husband was Daniel Brooks.”
Salvatore’s face remained composed.
“I'm sorry. It means nothing to me.”
My father’s letter seemed to burn inside my pocket.
Never trust the man with the wolf on his back.
Adrian moved beside me.
“Salvatore, we need to speak privately.”
“After I meet your fiancée properly.”
“You've met her.”
His uncle's smile disappeared.
The men went into Adrian's office.
Marco installed me, Mom, and Isabella in a sitting room under guard.
I paced.
“Does he have the tattoo?” I asked.
Isabella stared at the fireplace.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Family tradition.”
“Adrian’s is on his arm.”
“His mother objected to the original placement.”
“Why?”
Isabella looked at me.
“She said a wolf on a man's back was too easy to hide.”
That sentence stayed with me.
My mother sat rigidly on the sofa.
“Daniel hated that symbol.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you were twelve.”
“I’m twenty-seven now.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe Dad died because he lost control of his car.”
Her eyes filled.
“I wanted you to have a normal life.”
I laughed bitterly.
“My apartment was broken into yesterday.”
“I know.”
“I woke up in a mafia boss’s bed.”
Isabella coughed delicately.
I ignored her.
“I'm fake-engaged to him.”
“We should probably discuss that part later.”
“There isn't anything to discuss.”
Isabella raised one eyebrow.
“Yet.”
“Please stop.”
Mom looked at the ring.
“Is it fake?”
“The engagement?”
“The ring.”
“No.”
Her face changed.
“That was Sofia’s.”
“You knew her?”
“No. Daniel did.”
I sat beside her.
“How well?”
“He respected her.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Mom closed her eyes.
“After the warehouse fire, Daniel became obsessed. He said Sofia Moretti had been trying to clean up parts of the family business.”
Isabella looked sharply at her.
“What?”
“You didn't know?”
“No.”
Mom continued.
“She discovered someone using Moretti shipping contracts to move illegal weapons.”
Adrian's family was involved in plenty of illegal things.
Apparently even they had boundaries.
“Who?”
“He never told me.”
“Salvatore?”
“He suspected someone close to the family.”
Isabella’s grip tightened around her cane.
“Sofia told me she was worried about Salvatore.”
Everyone looked at her.
“You forgot that?” I asked.
“I spent years convincing myself it had been sibling resentment.”
“Why?”
“Because after Sofia died, my husband nearly destroyed the family searching for her killer. If I'd accused my surviving son without proof…”
She stopped.
“You protected Salvatore,” Mom said.
“I protected what remained.”
The office door opened.
Adrian returned alone.
“Where is he?” Isabella asked.
“Guest wing.”
“You let him stay?”
“I want him where I can watch him.”
He looked at me.
“We're going to South Harbor Federal.”
Mom stood.
“Absolutely not.”
“The key is gone,” I said.
Adrian shook his head.
“Not necessarily.”
“What?”
“The person who broke into your apartment may have found the music box but not understood the key.”
Mom stared.
“I told you it was inside.”
“It was?”
Mom hesitated.
Then reached into her coat.
She removed an old brass key.
I nearly shouted.
“You had it?”
“I moved it years ago.”
“Then why did you say it was in the music box?”
“Because I didn't know whether Adrian could be trusted.”
Adrian looked impressed.
“I like your mother.”
“She slapped you.”
“I noticed.”
South Harbor Federal had closed twelve years earlier.
Its vault records had been transferred to a private storage facility near the waterfront.
Adrian apparently had the sort of connections that turned impossible bureaucratic searches into fifteen-minute conversations.
At 4:20 p.m., we entered a secure archive.
Box 214 sat on a metal table.
The brass key fit.
I looked at my mother.
She nodded.
I opened it.
Inside were three objects.
A cassette tape.
A ledger.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed my father standing beside Sofia Moretti.
Adrian's mother.
Behind them was another man.
Gabriel Vale.
A date was handwritten at the bottom.
December 18, 2007.
The night before Sofia died.
Adrian picked up the photograph.
“My mother met Daniel.”
Mom nodded.
“He never told me.”
The ledger contained shipping numbers, payments, coded initials.
Adrian scanned the entries.
Then stopped.
“S.M.”
Salvatore Moretti.
Repeated again and again.
Beside payments worth millions.
But one page had been ripped out.
The cassette tape was labeled in my father's handwriting.
If Sofia does not make it home.
A storage employee found an old player.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then my father's voice.
I hadn't heard it in eighteen years.
I started crying before he completed the first sentence.
“My name is Daniel Brooks. The date is December eighteenth, 2007.”
Mom took my hand.
Daniel continued.
“Sofia Moretti believes someone inside the Moretti organization has been moving weapons through legitimate freight manifests.”
Adrian stood motionless.
“She asked me to inspect warehouse ventilation because she believed someone had tampered with the emergency exhaust system.”
Static.
“I found a bypass fitted to the main controller. It could trap smoke inside the building if a fire started.”
Isabella covered her mouth.
My father's voice became strained.
“Sofia says her brother Salvatore will meet Victor Vale at Warehouse Nine tomorrow night.”
Adrian looked at me.
Victor.
The name Lydia had been given.
The tape continued.
“If anything happens, Gabriel has the duplicate records. He plans to take them to federal investigators.”
Static.
Then another voice.
Sofia.
Adrian’s mother.
He closed his eyes.
“If Sal finds out Gabriel has the ledger, he will kill him.”
My skin prickled.
Daniel answered.
“Then cancel tomorrow.”
“I can’t. Salvatore believes my husband will be there. We need him caught with the shipment.”
“What if he knows?”
“He doesn't.”
A long pause.
Sofia spoke again.
“If something happens to me, tell Adrian I tried.”
The tape clicked.
Adrian walked away.
No one stopped him.
He stood facing the wall.
His shoulders shook once.
Only once.
Then the recording continued unexpectedly.
My father's voice returned.
“This is later. Warehouse Nine burned. Sofia is dead. Gabriel disappeared. Salvatore survived because he never entered the building.”
Static hissed.
“I think he knew.”
My mother began crying.
“I'm taking Catherine and Elena away. If I don't survive, the ledger stays hidden. Gabriel has the full copy.”
Another pause.
Then:
“I saw Salvatore tonight.”
Everyone froze.
“He has the wolf tattoo across his back.”
My eyes found Adrian.
Dad continued.
“And he knows who I am.”
The tape ended.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then a gunshot exploded outside the archive room.
Adrian reacted instantly.
“Down!”
Security guards rushed toward the corridor.
Another gunshot.
A body hit the floor.
Marco shouted.
“Back exit!”
Adrian grabbed my hand.
We ran between shelves.
Someone had followed us.
Again.
A bullet struck metal near my head.
Adrian shoved me behind a concrete pillar.
“Stay here.”
“Don't—”
He moved before I finished.
I heard fighting.
A grunt.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Marco appeared.
“Clear.”
We emerged.
One attacker lay unconscious.
Another was dead.
The unconscious man had a tattoo behind his ear.
A small circle crossed by a vertical line.
The same symbol drawn beneath Belladonna’s shattered window.
Adrian crouched beside him.
“Who sent you?”
The man smiled through bloody teeth.
“The dead man.”
“What dead man?”
“You still don't understand.”
Adrian grabbed his collar.
“Who?”
The attacker laughed.
“Gabriel Vale.”
My stomach turned.
Gabriel.
The man supposedly protecting evidence.
The man my father trusted.
The attacker whispered:
“Gabriel never disappeared.”
Adrian tightened his grip.
“Where is he?”
The man smiled.
“Closer than your uncle.”
Then he bit down.
Marco swore.
Foam appeared at the attacker’s mouth.
Poison.
Within seconds, he stopped moving.
I stared.
“This is insane.”
Adrian stood slowly.
“No.”
He looked at the photograph of Sofia, Daniel, and Gabriel.
“This is organized.”
That night, we returned to Belladonna with the ledger.
Salvatore was gone.
His guards claimed he'd received an urgent phone call.
No one had seen him leave.
Marco searched his room.
He found nothing.
Until I noticed a white rose on the nightstand.
One of the flowers he'd brought me.
Its stem had been cut open.
Inside was a tiny listening device.
He had bugged the house.
Adrian crushed it under his shoe.
Then a guard rushed inside.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found something in the lower garage.”
Adrian followed him.
So did I.
Behind one of the armored vehicles sat a man.
Bound to a chair.
Bruised.
Bleeding.
Alive.
He looked around sixty.
Gray hair.
Hollow cheeks.
When he lifted his face, Isabella screamed.
“Gabriel.”
The vanished brother.
The dead uncle.
The ghost my father had tried to protect.
Gabriel Vale looked at Adrian.
Then at me.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Daniel’s daughter.”
I stopped.
“You knew my father?”
“He saved my life.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Who did this to you?”
Gabriel laughed weakly.
“The same man who killed your mother.”
“Salvatore?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“No.”
Every person in the garage went silent.
Adrian leaned closer.
“Then who?”
Gabriel looked directly at Isabella.
May you like
And whispered:
“Your father.”
