Chapter 17 - THE SHADOW IN THE GALLERY
Six months of absolute peace in the New York underworld felt almost unnatural. The Moretti syndicate operated like a Swiss watch, its shipping lanes secure, its political alliances rock-solid, and its leadership untouchable. Clara’s new Broadway theater, The Higgins-Moretti Playhouse, had officially opened to rave reviews, its grand premiere attended by the city’s elite, none of whom suspected that the fierce, brilliant woman running the backstage production was the same person who had held a gun to Victor Vance’s head.
It was a crisp autumn evening when Dante stood on the private rooftop terrace of the penthouse, swirling a glass of aged scotch while watching the twinkling lights of the Manhattan skyline below. Mateo stepped out onto the terrace, his footsteps uncharacteristically hesitant, holding a manila folder sealed with a red wax stamp.
"Boss," Mateo said quietly, handing over the folder. "You’re not going to like this."
Dante frowned, setting his glass down on the stone railing and breaking the wax seal. Inside was a single 8x10 photograph and a handwritten note in Latin.
The photograph showed Clara walking out of the stage door of her theater earlier that afternoon, smiling as she spoke with her younger brother Leo. But circled in red ink in the background of the photo was a figure standing across the street in the shadows of a brick building—a man wearing a heavy trench coat, holding a pair of binoculars, his face half-concealed by a wide-brimmed fedora.
"Who is this?" Dante’s voice dropped into that dark, dangerous register that hadn't surfaced in half a year.
"We ran facial recognition through our European intelligence contacts," Mateo said grimly. "That’s Julian Vance. Victor Vance’s younger brother—and unlike Victor, Julian isn't a businessman. He’s an operative for the Corsican Syndicate, and he spent the last ten years running wet-work operations in Marseille before disappearing into the French Foreign Legion."
Dante’s grip on the photograph crushed the heavy cardstock until it tore in half. "He thinks he can come after my wife to avenge his brother?"
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"He’s not just coming after her, boss," Mateo warned, pointing to the Latin note in the folder. "Look at the translation at the bottom. It translates to: An eye for an eye, a queen for a king. Julian isn't interested in money or territory. He wants to tear your world apart piece by piece, starting with Clara."
Before Dante could respond, his encrypted burner phone began to ring violently on the glass table inside the study.
