Chapter 7 - The Shadow of the Moretti Family
Dominic stared at me for three agonizingly long seconds, his chest heaving with suppressed fury. Then, slowly, a dangerous, appreciative smile crept across his lips.
“You really have a death wish, don't you?” he murmured.
“I have a professional standard,” I snapped back, refusing to back down an inch. “If you want to run your syndicate, you do it from this desk, over encrypted comms, with your arm properly elevated. You are not bleeding out in a warehouse for a shipment of contraband.”
Dominic let out a short, sharp sigh, turning to Leo. “Set up the secure feed in the study. Tell the Moretti capos I’ll grant them a conference call in ten minutes.”
For the next two hours, I watched a side of Dominic Rossi that chilled me to my core. He didn't need to raise his voice or lift a finger; sitting across from a high-definition monitor, pale and wearing a loose silk shirt with his arm in a brace, he dismantled the Moretti family’s leadership with cold, surgical precision. He cited shipment numbers, financial deficits, and personal betrayals with absolute authority until the men on the other end of the screen were sweating through their collars, agreeing to terms that effectively surrendered half their maritime territory to the Rossi syndicate.
When the screen flickered black, Dominic leaned back, closing his eyes for a brief moment to catch his breath. The exertion had clearly drained him; a fine sheen of sweat coated his forehead.
I stepped forward silently, pressing a cold glass of water into his hand and checking his pulse at his wrist. “See? You didn't even have to bleed on the carpet.”
“You’re entirely too smug,” Dominic whispered, opening his eyes and looking up at me. His fingers loosely wrapped around my wrist, not to threaten, but to steady himself. The proximity was intoxicating, laden with a silent, heavy tension that had been building between us since the night I walked through his bedroom door.
“I’m competent,” I corrected softly, trying to pull my hand back. He didn't let go.
Before either of us could speak, a sharp, deafening explosion ripped through the mountain air, shaking the heavy stone walls of the mansion and shattering the stained-glass windows of the hallway outside.
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Alarms wailed instantly across the estate. Red emergency strobe lights began flashing overhead.
“Boss!” Leo’s voice roared over the intercom, punctuated by the unmistakable rattle of automatic gunfire echoing from the front gates. “We’re breached! The Morettis didn't accept the terms—they brought an army!”
