Chapter 7 - The Trial of Blood and Concrete
Dominic knew he was cornered. The mask had completely shattered, revealing the desperate, cornered rat underneath.
Slowly, his expression shifted from terror to a twisted, bitter sneer. He slammed his hands onto the table and stood up, knocking his chair over backward.
“Fine!” Dominic yelled, his voice echoing off the glass windows. “You caught me! So what? You think these old men care about a little poison? Look at you, Adrian! You’re yesterday’s news! You were weak! You were running this empire into the ground with your outdated, bloody-handed methods while the modern world moved on! I modernized the syndicates! I secured the tech contracts, the offshore accounts, the real estate portfolios! Without me, this family is just a bunch of thugs shaking down bodegas in the slums!”
He lunged forward, his hand diving inside his jacket toward a concealed Walther PPK.
He didn't even clear leather.
Before Dominic’s fingers could wrap around the grip of his gun, Marko’s Beretta was already leveled directly at the center of Dominic’s forehead. At the same time, three other capos drew their own weapons, all laser-focused on Dominic.
Dominic froze, his hand hovering inches from his holster.
“Go ahead,” Adrian said calmly, not even flinching as he remained seated, slowly swirling a glass of ice water. “Pull it. Let’s see how modern your reflexes are.”
Dominic slowly withdrew his hand, holding them up in surrender, trembling violently. “Adrian... please. We’re brothers. We share the same blood.”
“Blood?” Adrian’s voice turned to jagged shards of ice. He stood up slowly, towering over his younger brother. “You didn't spill blood in combat, Dominic. You poured poison into a teacup while smiling in my face. You didn't want to modernize the family; you wanted to auction it off to the highest bidder while hiding behind my name.”
Adrian looked toward Salvatore and the rest of the council.
“What is the penalty for treason against the Moretti family?” Adrian asked aloud.
Salvatore didn't hesitate. He stood up, resting both hands on his cane. “Death. Or worse—erasure.”
“No execution tonight,” Adrian decided, surprising everyone in the room. He stepped right up to Dominic, staring directly into his terrified eyes. “Death is too clean for a coward. You’re stripping your signature from every corporate document, every bank transfer, and every power-of-attorney deed you filed in the last three years. You will sign over every cent of your personal assets back to the syndicate trust.”
Dominic gasped. “You’re taking everything? You’ll leave me with nothing? Just kill me!”
“Leaving you alive with nothing in this city is a far more creative punishment,” Adrian whispered coldly. “Marko, put him on a freighter bound for South America tonight. No money, no aliases, no protection. Let’s see how well he survives in the modern world without the Moretti name.”
May you like
Marko grabbed Dominic by the collar, hoisting him up with brutal efficiency. As two enforcers dragged a kicking, screaming Dominic toward the service elevator, Adrian turned back to the remaining capos.
“Meeting adjourned,” Adrian said smoothly. “Let’s get back to work.”
