Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Truce
Two days later, the rain had stopped, leaving Chicago enveloped in a thick, eerie autumn fog.
Under the guise of setting up a lucrative shipping deal, Mateo Moretti had been fed carefully leaked intel by Roman’s inner team. The leak claimed that Roman would be attending a high-stakes dinner at L’Etoile, an exclusive waterfront restaurant, completely unarmored and accompanied by only two guards, to finalize a fifty-million-dollar land acquisition.
In reality, the entire restaurant had been rented out by Roman, its staff replaced by elite Moretti operatives dressed in tuxedos.
At 8:00 PM, a sleek black limousine pulled up to the restaurant entrance.
Roman stepped out, dressed in an impeccably tailored black tuxedo. Beside him stepped Emma, looking breathtaking in an elegant floor-length emerald green satin gown. Her hair was styled in soft waves over one shoulder, concealing an encrypted earpiece.
Beside them walked Brutus, wearing a custom black leather tactical harness adorned with a formal silk bowtie. The massive dog walked with noble grace, his sharp eyes scanning the fog-covered street.
“You look stunning, Emma,” Roman murmured softly as he took her arm, leading her up the velvet carpet into the restaurant.
Emma blushed slightly, adjusting her posture. “I feel out of place in a dress like this, Mr. Moretti.”
“Call me Roman,” he instructed, his voice low and intimate. “And you belong here far more than the blood-suckers we’re about to meet.”
Inside the dimly lit, luxurious dining room, a single grand table sat near the center floor.
Sitting at the far end of the table was Gabriel Vane.
Vane was fifty years old, with silver hair, sharp bird-like features, and an expensive tailored suit. Standing behind him were four towering bodyguards with visible shoulder holsters. Sitting to Vane’s right, looking pale and nervous as he poured a glass of scotch, was Roman’s traitorous cousin, Mateo.
When Roman, Emma, and Brutus entered, Mateo almost dropped his crystal glass. His eyes darted wildly toward Emma, then toward Brutus.
“Roman!” Gabriel Vane called out with a hollow, booming laugh, standing up with open arms. “You actually came! And you brought... a lovely companion, and your famous beast.”
Brutus let out a quiet, rhythmic huff, sitting firmly beside Emma’s chair as Roman pulled it out for her.
“Let’s skip the theater, Gabriel,” Roman said, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You asked for a meeting to discuss territorial boundaries in the West Loop.”
“Ah, always straight to business,” Vane smiled, stepping around the table. He gestured to a waiter—who was actually one of Vane’s undercover operatives—to bring over a silver tray holding a bottle of 1945 Chateau Margaux wine and four glasses.
“Before we negotiate,” Vane said, pouring rich dark red wine into four glasses, “a toast. To surviving old wars, and avoiding new ones.”
Vane slid a glass toward Roman, one toward Emma, kept one for himself, and offered the fourth to Mateo.
Mateo’s hands trembled so violently that the wine sloshed against the rim of his glass.
Emma’s sharp eyes caught the subtle detail immediately. She looked down at Brutus.
The Cane Corso’s nostrils flared. He lowered his head toward the table, sniffing the air near Roman’s glass. Suddenly, Brutus let out a sharp, ear-splitting bark, shoving his large snout directly against Roman’s forearm, knocking the wine glass off the mahogany table!
The crystal glass shattered on the hardwood floor, dark red wine splashing across the white carpet.
Instantly, two of Vane’s bodyguards reached inside their coats!
CLACK-CLACK!
Before Vane’s men could clear their holsters, Roman had pulled a suppressed pistol from beneath his tuxedo jacket, aiming it directly between Gabriel Vane’s eyes. Simultaneously, Emma whipped out a compact 9mm concealed within her satin dress folds, her sight locked onto Mateo’s chest!
Brutus surged forward, his front paws slamming onto the table, his white fangs exposed in an enraged roar that shattered the restaurant’s quiet atmosphere!
“Don't move!” Roman ordered, his voice echoing like thunder.
Gabriel Vane’s smile froze, his hands slowly rising into the air. “Roman... it’s just a toast—”
“Odors of bitter almonds,” Emma spoke cold and clear, looking down at the spilled wine on the carpet. “Potassium cyanide. Synthetic variant. Brutus was trained to detect chemical warfare agents during his military service before Roman adopted him.”
Roman’s eyes locked onto his cousin Mateo.
“You tried to poison me at a truce dinner, Mateo?” Roman asked, the sheer disappointment in his voice more terrifying than rage.
Mateo broke down, collapsing onto his knees, crying hysterically. “Roman, please! Vane threatened to kill my wife and kids! He forced me to plant the recorder on Brutus seven months ago! He threatened to destroy everything!”
Gabriel Vane’s face darkened, his mask of sophistication dropping completely. “You fool, Mateo,” Vane hissed.
Vane suddenly kicked the table upward, trying to create cover!
BANG! BANG!
Gunfire erupted inside the restaurant!
Vane’s bodyguards opened fire, but Roman grabbed Emma, pulling her safely behind a marble pillar as bullets shattered glass chandeliers overhead.
Brutus didn't hide. The massive dog leaped over the overturned table, charging straight through the smoke and gunfire! He slammed directly into Vane’s chief enforcer, tackling the armed killer through a plate-glass window into the outdoor patio!
“Emma, stay here!” Roman shouted, firing three precise shots over the pillar, taking down two of Vane’s gunmen.
“Not a chance!” Emma shouted back, dropping to one knee and firing twice, hitting Vane’s third guard in the shoulder, neutralizing the threat.
Gabriel Vane scrambled toward the rear kitchen exit, dragging a weeping Mateo with him as a human shield!
“Roman! He’s going for the back alley!” Emma called out.
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“He isn't getting out of Chicago alive,” Roman snarled.
Together, Roman, Emma, and Brutus chased the traitors into the dark, fog-filled alley behind the restaurant, ready to end the war once and for all.
