Chapter 7 - The Shadows Of A Past That Refused To Stay Buried
Just when I thought the storm had completely passed, the criminal underworld of the city reminded us that peace was an expensive commodity.
On Thursday evening, while Ronan was finalizing Carl’s federal transfer documents, Vance entered the penthouse study with a dark expression on his face.
“Boss,” Vance said, glancing briefly at me before looking at Ronan. “We have a complication. The Moretti brothers found out Carl Jenkins is in our custody.”
Ronan didn't look up from his paperwork. “And?”
“Carl made a deal before we took him,” Vance explained grimly. “He went to Dominic Moretti on Wednesday night, claiming he had insider access to The Continental and knew the security codes to the Obsidian Room. He promised Moretti a cut of your private vault in exchange for forty thousand dollars to pay off his debt.”
Ronan’s pen stopped moving. The air in the room grew instantly heavy.
“Dominic Moretti thinks Carl has Hayes Enterprises trade secrets,” Ronan said, his voice dangerously low. “He thinks Sadie is the key to unlocking them.”
“Moretti’s enforcers were spotted circling the Continental this afternoon,” Vance confirmed. “They’re looking for Sadie Vance. Dominic told his captains that anyone who brings her to the docks gets a fifty-thousand-dollar bounty.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. My hands gripped the edges of the sofa. “They think I know your secrets? I don't know anything! I was just a server!”
Ronan stood up from his desk, walking over to kneel directly in front of me. He took both of my shaking hands into his own, his gaze steady and unbreakable.
“Listen to me, Sadie,” Ronan said, his voice vibrating with absolute authority. “The Morettis are scavengers. They prey on rumors and weakness. They think because you were a waitress, you are a vulnerable target they can use to leverage me.”
He leaned closer, his eyes flashing with lethal resolve.
“Tomorrow night is the Annual Mayor’s Charity Gala at the Grand Plaza Hotel. Every major political figure, billionaire, and syndicate boss in the state will be in that ballroom—including Dominic Moretti.”
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“What are you going to do?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Ronan smiled a cold, predator’s smile. “You and I are going to attend that gala together. We are going to show the entire city who you belong to. And when Dominic Moretti sees you on my arm, he will understand that touching a single hair on your head means the total annihilation of his entire family.”
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