Chapter 5 - The Godfather's Warning
I didn't blink.
I didn't cower.
I stared down the black hole of Carlo Moretti’s gold barrel.
“My father had more honor in his pinky finger than you have in your entire
bloodline,” I spat into the rain.
Carlo laughed.
It was a hollow, ugly sound that cut through the storm.
“Honor didn't keep him out of an unmarked grave, sweet girl.”
He squeezed the trigger.
Click.
No shot.
Before Carlo could clear the jam, the piercing wail of air horns shook the
street.
Four massive armored transport trucks smashed through the warehouse gates.
They bore the crest of the Moretti High Commission: a silver wolf surrounded by
iron chains.
Behind them rolled ten black sedans.
Dozens of men in heavy combat armor poured out into the rain.
They didn't wear Carlo’s red bands.
They wore silver wolf insignias.
From the lead sedan stepped an elderly man leaning heavily on a carved walnut
cane.
Don Lorenzo Moretti.
Alessandro’s grandfather.
The supreme patriarch of the Five Families.
The living legend nobody dared cross.
Carlo’s face turned gray as ash.
His hitmen lowered their weapons instantly, dropping to their knees on the wet
asphalt.
“Father,” Carlo stammered, stepping backward into the puddle. “This... this
isn't what it looks like.”
Don Lorenzo ignored his son completely.
He walked past Carlo as if he were nothing more than garbage on the curb.
The old Don stopped beside Alessandro.
He looked down at his bleeding grandson.
“You let a woman lure you into an open ambush,” Don Lorenzo said.
His voice was like grinding granite.
“I survived, Grandfather,” Alessandro coughed, pushing himself upright with iron
willpower. “And I have the ledger.”
Don Lorenzo’s ancient eyes shifted to me.
He looked at my torn waitress apron.
He looked at the dried blood on my cheek.
He looked at the leather book clutched tightly against my ribs.
“Étienne’s daughter,” the Don murmured.
“Yes,” I said, standing tall despite my shaking knees.
“You hold the name of every politician and judge who took money to ruin your
father.”
“I hold the proof that your son Carlo murdered my father’s reputation,” I
corrected him fiercely.
The Don’s guards drew sharp breaths.
Nobody spoke to the Don like that.
Nobody survived such disrespect.
Don Lorenzo’s wrinkled mouth curved into a terrifying, toothless grin.
“She has her father’s spine,” the old man said softly.
He turned his back on Carlo.
“Strip Carlo of his titles,” Don Lorenzo commanded his men. “Take his keys. Lock
him in the basement at the estate until the commission meets at dawn.”
“Father! You can't believe this gutter girl!” Carlo screamed as four soldiers
pinned his arms behind his back.
“The entire world saw your confession on that little screen, idiot,” Don Lorenzo
spat. “You made our family a laughingstock before midnight.”
They dragged Carlo kicking into the back of a van.
The Don turned back to Alessandro.
“Bring the girl to the manor. Patch her up.”
Alessandro rose to his full height, swaying slightly from the blood loss.
He reached out and took my cold hand into his.
His fingers were warm and calloused.
“She is under my protection,” Alessandro told the old man.
Don Lorenzo paused.
He looked down at our joined hands.
A cold, calculating shadow fell across the old man’s weathered face.
“A Dubois under a Moretti roof?” Don Lorenzo whispered.
He leaned in until his breath ghosted across my cheek.
“A girl who knows every secret we own?”
The old Don tapped his cane sharply against my chest, right over my pounding
heart.
“Guard her closely, grandson,” the old man warned in a chilling murmur.
“Because if she tries to use that book against us... you will be the one who has
to put a bullet between her eyes.”
The Don turned and walked away into the shadows.
Alessandro pulled me toward his sedan.
His grip was desperate, almost possessive.
“Don't let him intimidate you,” he muttered against my hair.
“He isn't the one holding the gun,” I whispered back.
He shoved me inside the car, slamming the door between us and the night.
The engine roared to life.
I looked out the window as the Manhattan skyline blurred through the storm.
I was no longer a waitress.
May you like
I was a prisoner in a gilded cage.
And the man guarding me was the most lethal predator in the city.
