Chapter 9 - The Betrayal Waiting in Manhattan
Carlo DeMarco had six men in the building.
Dante counted them through security cameras.
Possibly more outside.
We had five adults capable of helping.
One child.
And one ledger worth killing everyone over.
Luca sat behind a concrete column, bleeding from a cut above his eye.
I almost enjoyed the symmetry.
Almost.
“You brought him here,” I said.
“I didn't know he'd move this soon.”
“That is becoming the theme of your career.”
Luca ignored me.
“Carlo promised partnership.”
Silvio laughed.
“You believed a DeMarco promise?”
“Shut up.”
“Your father believed one once,” Silvio told me. “Cost him his first son.”
That silenced the room.
Luca looked at me.
“You knew about Michael?”
“Recently.”
“You're discovering all kinds of family history.”
“Thanks to you.”
Elena held Sophie behind a steel cabinet.
The little girl was trying not to cry.
I crawled toward them.
“Elena.”
“Don't tell me everything is going to be fine.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Good.”
“I need you to trust Dante.”
“I do.”
“I’m going to draw them away.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
“You don't even know the plan.”
“Your plan involves you doing something stupid.”
“That is likely.”
Her eyes filled.
“You’ve been my brother for approximately twelve hours.”
“Unofficially.”
“And you're already trying to get yourself killed.”
“Family tradition.”
She almost laughed despite herself.
Then her face changed.
“Don't.”
One word.
Not an order.
A plea.
Nobody had asked Adrian Moretti not to die because they would miss him in years.
Employees needed me alive.
Partners needed me alive.
Enemies preferred me dead.
This was different.
“I'll come back.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
I touched her shoulder.
“But I’m going to try very hard.”
Sophie crawled closer.
“Uncle Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“Take this.”
She gave me her wrench.
The same small wrench she had carried beside the road.
I stared at it.
“For luck.”
“I’m not sure this is useful in a gunfight.”
She frowned.
“It fixed your car.”
“Excellent point.”
I put it inside my jacket.
Dante's plan was simple.
Kill the lights.
Trigger the warehouse sprinkler system.
Move through the stairwell while DeMarco’s men focused on the ledger room.
Luca offered information.
I didn't trust him.
But desperate men sometimes told useful truths.
“Carlo will be in the loading bay,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Because he never sends men to collect something this important.”
“Why didn't you tell me before?”
“You didn't ask.”
I considered shooting him.
Elena said, “Don't.”
I looked at her.
She knew exactly what I was thinking.
That was irritating.
We cut power.
Darkness.
Alarms.
Water exploded from overhead pipes.
Dante moved first.
Silvio covered the rear.
I took the stairs.
Gunshots flashed in the dark.
A man appeared.
I hit him with the pistol before he could fire.
Another came from the hallway.
Dante handled him.
We reached the loading bay.
Carlo stood beside a dark Mercedes.
Fifty-five.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
He looked like a banker.
That had always been his favorite disguise.
“Adrian.”
“Carlo.”
“You're making this unnecessarily dramatic.”
“You threatened a child.”
“I threatened what you care about.”
“Same thing.”
He smiled.
“That is your weakness.”
“No.”
I aimed the gun.
“It’s the reason you're going to lose.”
Two men stepped from behind the Mercedes.
Dante raised his weapon.
Carlo laughed.
“We can shoot each other.”
“Possible.”
“Or you give me the ledger.”
“No.”
“You haven't even heard what I'm offering.”
“I don't care.”
“Your organization.”
“Already mine.”
“Not anymore.”
He showed me his phone.
Messages.
Bank transfers.
Company resignations.
Several captains had switched allegiance.
Luca's work.
“You've lost half your empire.”
I looked at the screen.
Years ago, that would have terrified me.
Now I thought about Sophie handing me a wrench.
“Keep it.”
Carlo blinked.
“What?”
“The restaurants. Warehouses. Men who switched because they thought I was dead.”
I shrugged.
“Keep them.”
“You're bluffing.”
“No.”
“You built your entire life around that empire.”
“Exactly.”
I finally understood what my father never had.
If something owns your choices, you don't own it.
Carlo's smile disappeared.
“Where’s the ledger?”
“Safe.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To make sure you don’t get near my family.”
He laughed.
“Family? You've known them three days.”
“That was enough.”
Gunfire erupted upstairs.
Carlo glanced up.
Mistake.
Dante fired.
One guard went down.
I tackled Carlo behind the vehicle.
We hit concrete.
He reached for a gun.
I knocked it away.
We fought.
Not elegantly.
Real violence rarely is.
Elbows.
Knees.
Blood.
Carlo was older, but strong.
He slammed my head against the bumper.
My vision blurred.
He reached for the weapon.
My hand found something inside my jacket.
Sophie’s wrench.
I struck his wrist.
He screamed.
The gun fell.
Dante kicked it away.
Police sirens sounded outside.
Carlo froze.
I smiled through blood.
“You called police?” he asked.
“No.”
Silvio entered.
“I did.”
Carlo stared at him.
“You.”
Silvio shrugged.
“I’m old. I’m tired. Prison food can't be worse than what I cook.”
Carlo's face twisted.
“You'll bury everyone.”
“That’s the idea.”
Police flooded the loading bay.
State investigators.
Federal agents.
Dante had sent copies of several ledger pages fifteen minutes earlier.
Enough to make sure no single corrupt official could bury the situation.
Carlo was arrested.
Three of his men surrendered.
Two were wounded.
One escaped.
Luca disappeared.
Again.
When I returned upstairs, Elena ran toward me.
She stopped when she saw the blood.
“You promised.”
“I said I'd try.”
“That is not the same.”
Sophie ran past her and hugged my legs.
I winced.
“You’re squeezing a rib.”
She immediately stepped back.
“Did my wrench work?”
I looked at Carlo being led away below.
“Yes.”
Her face lit up.
“Told you.”
I laughed.
Then Elena hugged me.
I froze for only a second this time.
Behind her, Dante picked up the ledger.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We have a bigger problem.”
He opened to a page marked twenty-six years earlier.
There was my father's name.
Giuseppe DeMarco.
Silvio Vescari.
And one more.
A name I knew better than any other.
My mother's.
Isabella Moretti.
Beside it were four words:
MICHAEL MORETTI — PAYMENT AUTHORIZED.
I stared at the page.
May you like
All the relief disappeared.
Because the ledger suggested my mother had known far more about my brother’s death than anyone had told me.
