Chapter 12 - The Ghost of the PastDown in the private underground logistics terminal, Dominic Russo was overseeing the inventory shift when a dull, rhythmic thud echoed from the deep security cells at the end of the corridor.
Dominic stopped pacing. He motioned for two armed guards to stay back and walked slowly down the damp, concrete-lined hallway toward Cell 4.
Sitting in the dim light behind the reinforced plexiglass was Salvatore Rizzi.
The former right-hand man looked unrecognizable. His tailored wool coats were gone, replaced by a coarse gray jumpsuit. His hair was uncombed, and his eyes—once sharp and calculating—were now hollow pits of bitter obsession.
As Dominic stopped in front of the glass, Salvatore slowly stood up, dragging his boots across the floor, and pressed his face close to the partition.
“Is he happy?” Salvatore’s voice rasped, dry and cracked from disuse. “Does the great Adrian Moretti enjoy playing house with a maid and her bastard child?”
“Watch your mouth, Sal,” Dominic warned coldly, his hand resting on his holster. “You’re lucky the Boss didn't put a bullet in your skull six months ago.”
“He should have,” Salvatore sneered, a twisted, venomous smile stretching across his lips. “Because a wolf who forgets how to hunt is just waiting to be slaughtered. And Adrian thinks he’s safe because he cleared out my vault. He doesn't know that the primary server in Zurich was synced to an external backup.”
Dominic’s blood ran cold. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
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“I’m talking about the real ledger,” Salvatore whispered, his eyes gleaming with mad triumph. “The one that doesn't just implicate his dead father—it implicates the entire commission. If the federal task force gets their hands on it, the Moretti empire doesn't just lose money. It burns to ash.”
Dominic pulled his encrypted radio from his tactical vest, pressing the talk button instantly. “Boss. We have a code red in the lower holding cells.”
