Chapter 4 - THE STORM BREAKS
The aftermath of that night at the docks was a whirlwind of dangerous consequences.
The man tied to the chair had been Marco Moretti—the younger brother of Donny Moretti. Marco had been caught embezzling three million dollars from the Romano shipping accounts and selling information about Alessandro's supply lines to a rival syndicate operating out of New Jersey.
By stopping the interrogation, I had unwittingly spared Marco's life. But I had also exposed a dangerous rift within the Romano organization.
Donny Moretti wanted his brother dead to protect his own reputation. Alessandro, influenced by my presence, had banished Marco from New York instead of executing him—a sign of mercy that many of the old-school capos viewed as dangerous weakness.
Three days later, the storm broke.
I was sitting in the penthouse living room, helping my mother go through her new pulmonary rehabilitation exercises, when the private elevator chimed.
The doors opened, but it wasn't Victor or Nurse Sarah who stepped out.
It was Donny Moretti.
He wore a heavy leather trench coat, his eyes dark and hollow, flanked by two men holding suppressed automatic pistols.
My mother gasped, dropping her exercise ball. "Elena..."
I stood up immediately, pushing my mother behind my chair. "Who are you? How did you get up here?"
"The front desk doorman is currently unconscious in the basement, Miss Vance," Donny Moretti said, his voice cold and raspy. "And Mr. Russo is currently busy dealing with a set of tire spikes on the Manhattan Bridge."
My heart plummeted into my stomach. It was a setup.
"What do you want?" I demanded, keeping my voice level despite the cold sweat pouring down my back.
"Alessandro has gone soft because of you," Moretti spat, taking two steps into the living room, his boots leaving dirty rain tracks on the dark oak floor. "Twenty years we built this empire on fear. Twenty years no man crossed the Romanos and lived to tell about it. Then you show up—a nobody, a coffee girl—and suddenly Alessandro is sparing traitors and sending medical teams to Astoria."
He raised his gun, pointing the cold steel barrel directly at my forehead.
"The board of directors has decided," Moretti said flatly. "Alessandro Romano is unfit to lead. And to make sure he understands why... you die today."
"Don't touch her!" my mother screamed from behind me, her voice breaking into a harsh, wheezing cough as she tried to throw her thin body in front of mine.
"Ma, stay down!" I yelled, holding her back with one hand while keeping my eyes glued to Moretti's face.
"Any last words, coffee girl?" Moretti sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger.
I looked him dead in the eye.
"Just one," I said softly.
"What?"
"Look behind you."
Before Moretti could react, the heavy floor-to-ceiling glass panel behind the sofa exploded inward in a deafening shower of a thousand glittering shards!
A tactical rappelling rope dropped from the roof above.
Through the shattered glass came Alessandro Romano.
He hit the oak floor like a thunderbolt, rolling through the broken glass, his movements impossibly fast, lethal, and precise.
Before Moretti's guards could even raise their weapons, two loud BANG-BANG gunshots echoed through the penthouse!
Both guards crumpled to the floor instantly.
Moretti spun around, screaming in panic, raising his gun toward Alessandro—but Alessandro was already there.
He grabbed Moretti's gun arm, twisting it upward with a terrifying CRACK of breaking bone! Moretti shrieked in agony as his weapon clattered uselessly across the floor.
Alessandro caught Moretti by the throat, lifting the broad-shouldered man off his feet with one hand, and slammed him savagely against the marble fireplace hearth!
"YOU DARE ENTER MY HOUSE?!" Alessandro roared, his voice shaking the crystal chandelier hanging overhead. "YOU DARE POINT A GUN AT MY WIFE?!"
The word echoed in the room like a physical shockwave.
My wife.
Moretti choked, blood bubbling from his lips, his eyes wild with primal terror as Alessandro's fingers tightened like steel bands around his windpipe.
"Alessandro! STOP!" I screamed.
Alessandro's head snapped toward me. His face was covered in small cuts from the flying glass, his dark eyes filled with the same apocalyptic fury I had seen at the docks.
"He tried to kill you," Alessandro growled, his hand tightening further. "He threatened your mother."
"If you kill him here, in front of my mother, you lose everything!" I cried out, stepping over the shattered glass, reaching out toward him. "You become the monster he thinks you are! Don't do it, Alessandro! Look at me!"
Alessandro stared at me.
He looked at my mother, who was clutching her chest, gasping for air, but watching him with eyes that held no hatred—only fear for my safety.
Slowly, agonizingly, the lethal fury in Alessandro's eyes subsided.
He threw Moretti sideways like a sack of trash. Moretti collapsed onto the floor, groaning, holding his broken arm, entirely defeated.
At that moment, the elevator doors chimed violently.
Victor rushed out, followed by six armed security guards, their guns ready. Victor took in the scene—the shattered glass, the dead guards, the bleeding Moretti, and Alessandro standing in the center of the destruction.
"Victor," Alessandro said, his voice cold, steady, and terrifyingly calm once more. "Take Donny Moretti to the Federal District Attorney's office. Give them the evidence files on the New Jersey syndicate. Clear out every corrupt capo remaining on the board."
Victor's eyes widened in total shock. "Alessandro... if you turn over those files, the Romano organization's illegal operations will be completely dismantled. You'll lose the docks!"
May you like
Alessandro turned his head slowly, looking at me—at the girl in the blue uniform who had stood up to him over a three-dollar cup of coffee.
"I don't need the docks anymore, Victor," Alessandro said softly. "I have something real to protect."
