Chapter 1 - THE HEARTBEAT UNDER MAHOGANYThe Paws That Bled for a KingThe heavy silence inside the chapel shattered under the weight of Veto’s desperate fury.
The hundred-and-thirty-pound Rottweiler didn’t just growl; he threw his entire body against the sealed mahogany casket. The thunderous THUD echoed off the stained-glass windows, sending a shudder through the gathered crowd of mob bosses, lieutenants, and hitmen.
"Get that damned dog out of here!" Marco barked, his hand instinctively resting on the silver grip of his concealed firearm. "He's losing his mind. Drag him out!"
Two built soldiers stepped forward, heavy leather leashes in hand. But as they lunged, Veto whirled around. His dark eyes burned with an primal rage. He snapped his jaws inches from the first soldier’s throat, forcing both men to stumble backward over the velvet rope.
Instead of attacking them further, Veto turned back to the coffin. He reared up on his hind legs, slamming his massive front paws against the brass hinges. Then, he did something that made every heart in the room freeze.
He pressed his ear directly against the polished wood, went dead silent for two seconds, and began to claw furiously at the lid. He clawed with such violent desperation that his claws tore, leaving dark streaks of blood across the multi-thousand-dollar mahogany finish.
"Look at his paws!" Elena screamed, rushing forward from the front pew, her black veil tearing away from her face. "He’s bleeding! He’s trying to open it!"
"Elena, back away!" Marco ordered, his face suddenly pale, a slick sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead. "The dog is rabid! He’s disturbing Prattasio’s rest. Stand down, now!"
"No!" Elena shoved Marco’s arm away with a strength born of pure instinct. "Veto spent eight years at my brother’s side. He survived three ambushes with him! He knows Prattasio’s scent better than anyone in this world! Look at him—he’s not mourning! He’s trying to tear the box open!"
Veto let out a piercing, high-pitched whine—a sound of agonizing plea—and pressed his snout into the microscopic seam where the coffin lid met the base. He snorted violently, catching a trace of faint air escaping from within.
Inside the dark, suffocating tomb, Prattasio Lori was drowning in his own skin.
His eyes were open, staring into pitch blackness, but his eyelids were paralyzed. His lungs felt like compressed lead. A neurotoxin—rare, cold, and slow-acting—had trapped his spirit inside a stone body. He could hear everything. He had heard Marco’s eulogy. He had heard the fake tears of his lieutenants. He had heard the hammer locking the velvet-lined lid shut.
Move! Prattasio screamed inside his own mind, his consciousness thrashing against the paralysis. Move a finger! Breathe!
Nothing responded. The oxygen was depleting fast. His heart was beating barely twice a minute—so faint that even the medical monitor at the hospital had shown a flat line. But outside, inches away through three inches of solid wood, he heard it.
Scritch. Scritch. BANG.
Veto.
The sound of his dog’s frantic claws gave Prattasio a surge of adrenaline. Deep within his chest, a microscopic twitch fired through his diaphragm. A microscopic gasp of trapped air bubbled from his lips.
Outside, Veto caught the tiny vibration through the wood. He threw his head back and let out a deafening, earth-shattering bark that shook the chapel’s chandelier.
"Open the box!" Elena screamed, grabbing a heavy brass candlestick from the altar.
May you like
"Touch that casket and you break family law!" Marco shouted, drawing his pistol. "The Don is dead! Dr. Vance certified it!"
"Then explain why the dog hears a heartbeat!" Elena shrieked, aiming the heavy brass candlestick straight at Marco’s head. "Open it, or I swear to God I’ll paint this chapel with your brains!"
