Chapter 6 - Blood on the Marble and the Ambush at the Gala
The sight of Jake standing beside the head of the Moretti family made my stomach violently heave.
Jake looked older, haggard, his eyes darting frantically across the room like a rat trapped in a corner. But when his gaze locked onto mine—and then drifted to the million-dollar emeralds glittering around my neck—a look of pure, toxic entitlement twisted his features.
"Ava?" Jake gasped, taking a step forward. "What the hell is this? What are you doing with him?"
Before Jake could take another step, Dante moved like a shadow, placing his massive frame between Jake and me, his hand resting discreetly inside his tuxedo jacket where the outline of a Glock 19 was clearly visible.
Luca didn't flinch. He didn't even raise an eyebrow. He simply turned his cold, lethal gaze upon Don Moretti.
"Carmine," Luca greeted, his voice dripping with ice. "I see you're still bringing stray dogs to high-society events."
Moretti’s thin lips curled into a sinister smile. "This stray dog had an interesting story to tell, Luca. He told me that Arthur Carter’s daughter was working for minimum wage at a greasy diner, while you sat on the docks that her father built."
"Arthur Carter’s daughter is the lady of the Castellano estate," Luca replied, his voice ringing clearly across the silent ballroom. "And my legal wife. Which means any claim, any debt, and any conversation regarding her begins and ends with a bullet through the skull of whoever speaks her name without my permission."
Jake turned pale, clutching Moretti’s sleeve. "Don Moretti, she’s lying! She’s mine! The kid is mine! I have parental rights—"
Crack.
The sound was so fast, so sudden, that half the room screamed.
Luca hadn't drawn a gun. In a fraction of a second, he had bridged the gap, grabbed Jake by the throat with one hand, and slammed him face-first into the marble pillars supporting the mezzanine.
Jake’s nose exploded in blood. He fell to his knees, choking and groaning in agony.
Moretti’s guards reached for their jackets.
Instantly, twenty Castellano soldiers stationed around the perimeter of the ballroom drew their weapons in unison, the sharp, metallic clicks of chambering rounds echoing through the hall like a death knell.
The high-society guests shrieked, scrambling toward the exits in a chaotic wave of silk and spilled champagne.
Luca looked down at Jake, his eyes completely devoid of human warmth. He wiped a drop of Jake’s blood from his pristine white cuff with cold precision.
"Speak of my daughter again," Luca whispered, each word dropping like a lead weight, "and I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the fish in Puget Sound."
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Don Moretti raised his hands slowly, signaling his men to hold their fire. His eyes were narrowed, venomous. "You've broken the peace treaty, Castellano. Bringing this girl into the family doesn't erase what she represents."
"The peace treaty died the moment you put surveillance on my wife's home," Luca answered, stepping back to my side and wrapping a protective arm around my waist. "Leave Seattle tonight, Carmine. If I see your face in this county after sunrise, there will be no more meetings. There will only be funerals."
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