Chapter 8 - The Price Of Loyalty
The safehouse was located in an unassuming residential neighborhood in Lincoln Park.
A two-story brownstone with reinforced steel window frames and an underground security bunker.
I sat on the edge of a leather sofa, my hands wrapped around a mug of hot black coffee.
My fingers were still shaking from the adrenaline.
Luca stood by the kitchen island, having stripped off his blood-spattered coat.
A white bandage wrapped tightly around his left forearm where a bullet fragment had grazed his skin.
Ray was cleaning his revolver at the dining table, his movements methodical and calm.
Luca walked over and sat in the armchair opposite me.
He reached into his pocket and placed a small velvet box on the coffee table between us.
“Open it,” he said softly.
I looked at him, then picked up the box.
I popped the brass clasp.
Nestled inside the white satin lining was a pear-cut blue diamond ring.
It wasn't seven carats.
It was roughly two carats, but the color was an astonishing, deep ocean blue.
“What is this, Mr. Moretti?”
“It was my mother’s confirmation ring,” Luca said.
“She gave it to my father before they were married.”
“I found it in the safe at the Bellini estate alongside the files.”
Luca leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“You didn't run when the shooting started, Emma.”
“I was terrified,” I admitted truthfully, my voice quiet.
“Bravery isn't the absence of fear,” Luca murmured.
“It's doing what needs to be done even when your hands are shaking.”
He reached out and gently closed my fingers around the box.
“Keep it.”
“I can't accept this,” I said, trying to hand it back. “This is your family's heritage.”
“It belongs to someone who understands the true value of things,” Luca said, his dark eyes holding mine.
“Not just the price in dollars, but the weight of the history behind it.”
Ray looked up from his revolver, a warm, knowing smile touching his weathered face.
“Take it, Miss Emma. Isabella would have wanted someone like you to wear it.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and slipped the small box into my pocket.
Just then, Daniel walked into the room from the underground communications room.
His expression was grim.
“Boss.”
Luca stood up immediately.
“Did you trace the vans from the alley?”
“Yes,” Daniel replied.
“They didn't belong to Hector’s men.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“Then whose were they?”
Daniel looked down at his clipboard, his jaw tight.
“The registration traces back to a shell corporation owned by Uncle Matteo.”
The room went dead silent.
Ray stopped cleaning his gun, his hands freezing in mid-air.
“Matteo?” Ray whispered in disbelief. “Luca’s own uncle? The consigliere?”
Luca didn't speak for five long seconds.
The air in the brownstone became heavy and toxic.
Matteo Moretti was the last living brother of Luca’s father.
He had sat at Luca’s right hand during the family council for ten years.
He had toasted Luca’s leadership at every banquet.
“Matteo was behind Corvallis the entire time,” Luca said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, subterranean register.
“He didn't just want the shipping ports thirty years ago.”
“He wanted the entire Moretti empire.”
Luca walked over to the gun rack beside the door, pulling down a heavy black tactical vest.
“Call the captains,” Luca ordered Daniel.
May you like
“Tell them the family council convenes at midnight at the Union League Club.”
“And tell Matteo that his presence is required.”
