Chapter 2 - Wolves at the Gate
The grand foyer of the Caruso estate was built like a fortress. Venetian plaster walls concealed armor-plated steel, and the towering crystal chandelier hung from a reinforced ceiling beam designed to withstand blast waves. As I descended the grand marble staircase, my hand rested comfortably inside my jacket on the grip of my custom Kimber .45.
At the bottom of the stairs stood Victor Moretti.
He was a broad, silver-haired man in his late fifties, dressed in a tailored double-breasted suit that couldn't quite hide the menace underneath. Beside him stood his chief enforcer, a scarred brute named Leo, along with four armed guards whose hands hovered suspiciously near their lapels.
"Dominic!" Victor spread his arms in a theatrical gesture of celebration, his voice echoing off the marble. "The king of New York expands his reach! Sixty million dollars from the shipping conglomerates. A monumental day for the Caruso family."
"You're trespassing, Victor," I said, stopping three steps from the bottom of the staircase to maintain the high ground. My eyes flicked over his men, analyzing their positions, identifying their primary targets. "My estate isn't a social club. State your business and get off my land."
Victor’s fake smile faded slightly, replaced by the predatory glint that had made him a ruthless boss. "Always so formal, Dominic. Your father had more hospitality. God rest his soul." He stepped closer, his heavy shoes clicking on the floor. "I came to deliver a message in person. A rumor reached my ears this evening. A very interesting rumor."
"I don't deal in rumors. I deal in blood and ledger balances."
"Ah, but this rumor involves your ledgers," Victor chuckled softly, taking a cigar from his breast pocket. Leo stepped forward to light it for him. Victor took a slow drag, blowing a ring of blue smoke toward the ceiling. "You see, six months before your unfortunate brother, Julian, met his sudden... fiery end... a set of encrypted offshore ledgers disappeared from our joint syndicate holding company. Ledgers containing the routing numbers for over two hundred million dollars."
My pulse remained steady, but my mind raced. The joint holding company had been a temporary truce between the Caruso and Moretti families five years ago. Julian had been tasked with auditing those accounts.
"Julian’s death was an accident, according to the police," I lied seamlessly.
"The police are idiots, Dominic, and you know it," Victor laughed, stepping closer to the stairs. "Julian was smart. Too smart for his own good. He stole those ledgers. He hid the master key. I spent eighteen months assuming those codes burned with him in that Newark ditch. But then, an hour ago, I got a ping from a dead account in Switzerland. Someone tried to access Julian’s private trust."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Hannah. When she tried to pay for her daughter’s medical needs or daycare, or perhaps when Julian gave her that money, a sleeper wire had been triggered.
"If someone accessed it, it wasn't here," I said, keeping my tone deadpan. "My brother is dead, Victor."
"Is he?" Victor’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. He took a slow step up the staircase, leaning in close enough for me to smell the stale tobacco on his breath. "Because my sources tell me that the sleeper wire wasn't triggered from Europe. It was triggered from a private terminal right here in north Jersey. And the signature key used... was a biometrics match for Julian Caruso's bloodline."
The air in the room turned instantly lethal. Behind me, hidden behind the heavy drapery on the second-floor balcony, I knew Marco had his sniper rifle trained directly on the back of Victor’s skull. But Victor’s men were equally positioned. A firefight in this foyer meant blood would splatter the walls—and Hannah and Grace were upstairs.
"You're reaching, Victor," I said, my voice dropping an octave, carrying the unmistakable promise of violence. "You come into my home, accuse my dead brother of theft, and threaten my household based on a glitch in a Swiss server?"
"I'm not threatening you, Dominic," Victor said smoothly, though his eyes flashed with rage. "I'm offering a partnership. Give me the key. Give me the access code Julian left behind. We split the two hundred million fifty-fifty, and we forget that your brother tried to rob me."
"And if I tell you there is no key?"
Victor took a deep drag of his cigar and let the smoke fall between us. "Then I’ll assume you’re keeping the whole pie for yourself. And you know how I feel about greedy neighbors, Dominic. Accidents happen. Cars burn. Houses catch fire."
He was confessing. He didn't say the words outright, but the dark amusement in his eyes confirmed what I had suspected for eighteen months. Victor Moretti had ordered the thermite bomb that took my brother.
I wanted to draw my gun and put a bullet directly through his forehead. I wanted to paint the marble floor with his blood right then and there. But I thought of the nine-month-old girl upstairs, clutching a faded yellow onesie, sleeping with her father's eyes closed. If I started a war in this foyer tonight, I couldn't guarantee her safety.
I forced my hand to relax against my side.
"Leave," I said coldly. "Before I forget that you are an old man who used to break bread with my father."
Victor stared at me for three long, suffocating seconds. Slowly, a dark, sinister grin spread across his face. He nodded to his enforcers.
"We're leaving," Victor announced, backing away from the stairs. "For now. But remember this, Dominic. A line of blood doesn't end until every branch is cut from the tree. Check your garden. You might find weeds growing where you least expect them."
With that chilling warning, Victor turned and walked out of the mansion, his men falling in behind him. The heavy front doors slammed shut, and the heavy electronic locks engaged with a series of metallic thuds.
Marco immediately stepped out from behind the velvet curtains on the balcony, his rifle held at the ready. "Boss! Should I have the perimeter team take out his motorcade on the highway?"
"No," I answered, turning to head back up the stairs. "If Victor dies tonight, his entire syndicate goes to war, and the federal task force will lock down this entire city. That gives us no room to maneuver."
"What are your orders, Dominic?" Vincent asked, emerging from the side hallway, his face dark with concern. "Moretti knows something. If he suspects Julian left something behind..."
"He doesn't just suspect it, Vincent," I said, stopping on the landing and looking down at my consigliere. "He knows. And the only reason he knows is because someone inside our organization gave him access to our private terminal pings."
Vincent’s eyes widened. "You think we have a mole?"
"I know we do," I said coldly. "Gather the senior captains. I want a complete audit of every communication device in this house by midnight. Anyone who hesitates gets a bullet."
I hurried up the stairs to the third floor, my heart pounding with a strange, unfamiliar panic. When I reached the master suite, I pushed the heavy doors open.
Hannah was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, clutching Grace tightly against her chest. She looked up at me with terrified, tear-streaked eyes.
"Was that... were those the men who killed Julian?" she whispered.
May you like
I walked over to her, reaching down to gently touch Grace’s forehead. The baby stirred softly, her tiny hand reaching out in her sleep to grasp my finger. Her grip was surprisingly strong.
"They don't know she exists yet," I said softly, my voice hardening like tempered steel. "And they never will. Because before Victor Moretti can take another step toward this child, I am going to destroy his entire world."
