Chapter 5 - The Trap at the East WingMidnight descended over the Duca estate like a velvet shroud soaked in poison.
The wind howled through the cypress trees lining the perimeter wall, rattling the iron gates and sending dry autumn leaves scurrying across the marble courtyards. Inside the east wing, however, the atmosphere was thick with the suffocating silence of a trap waiting to be sprung.
Donato Moretti sat at the head of the folding table, swirling a glass of amber cognac. Across from him sat two of his most trusted capos, their hands resting casually inside their suit jackets near the comforting bulk of shoulder holsters.
"He's taking too long," one of the capos muttered, checking a gold Rolex. "If Duca is protecting the girl, he's breaking the code. We take the estate by sunrise."
"Let him break it," Moretti smiled, his yellow teeth catching the dim light. "The more rules Lorenzo shatters, the weaker his seat on the council becomes. By tomorrow noon, the old families will beg me to take over the syndicate."
The heavy oak doors of the east wing did not swing open this time.
They splintered.
A massive, deafening CRACK echoed through the room as the doors blew inward, shrapnel flying across the polished wood. Before the dust could settle, Pino shot into the room like a streak of midnight lightning, landing squarely on the chest of the capo nearest the door, driving him into the wall with a bone-crunching thud and a terrifying, guttural snarl.
Moretti scrambled backward, his glass shattering on the floor as he clawed for his pistol.
"Looking for something, Donato?"
Lorenzo stepped through the shattered doorway. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore; he wore a black tactical turtleneck, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and pale white scars from old knife fights. In his right hand, he held a suppressed Sig Sauer P226, the barrel pointed lazily at the floor, but perfectly aligned with Moretti’s heart.
"You're out of your mind, Duca!" Moretti screamed, his face turning the color of curdled milk as Pino clamped powerful jaws around the arm of the struggling capo, pinning him to the floor without breaking skin, just applying enough pressure to make him scream. "That maid is an assassin's spawn! She's a security threat to every man in this room!"
Lorenzo walked slowly toward the table, his boots clicking rhythmically against the ruined wood. He stopped three feet from Moretti, his dark eyes burning with an icy, controlled fury.
"She's a mother who scrubs floors," Lorenzo corrected softly. "And you are a petty, small-minded parasite who thought he could use a child as leverage to steal my docks."
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Moretti swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the door. "The council will hear about this. You're protecting an enemy of the bloodline!"
"The council answers to me," Lorenzo said, raising the pistol until the cold steel pressed directly against the center of Moretti’s forehead. "And as for my bloodline... let me teach you something about how a Duca settles debts."
