Chapter 18 - THE INVITATION
Dante strode into the study in three long strides, snatching the burner phone off the desk and pressing answer.
"Moretti," he barked into the receiver.
A chilling, smooth voice echoed through the encrypted line—a voice dripping with aristocratic arrogance and a razor-sharp French accent.
“Good evening, Mr. Moretti. I trust you received my small token of appreciation outside your wife’s lovely theater today.”
Dante’s knuckles turned white around the phone. "Julian Vance. You stepped foot in New York, which means you have about thirty minutes to live before my men scatter your remains across the East River."
Julian laughed softly on the other end of the line—a smooth, mocking sound. “Such predictable bravado, Dante. You think like a mob boss who believes violence solves everything. But my brother was a fool who played checkers while I play chess. If you want to see your precious wife alive again, you won't send your enforcers, and you won't call the police.”
The blood rushed out of Dante’s face. The room seemed to tilt sideways. "If you’ve touched a hair on her head—"
“She is quite unharmed—for the moment,” Julian interrupted smoothly. “She was remarkably polite when my men intercepted her car outside the studio ten minutes ago. In fact, she’s currently sitting across from me, sipping imported espresso and critiquing the tailoring of my suit—much like she did with my late brother. You have to hand it to her, Dante; she has remarkable composure in the face of death.”
"Name your price, Julian," Dante growled, his voice trembling with a terrifying, suppressed rage. "Whatever you want—money, ports, territory—it’s yours."
“I don't want your money, Moretti. I want an exchange. Exactly at midnight, at the abandoned Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital on the East River. Just you, unarmed, walking through the front gates alone. If anyone else follows you, or if so much as a single sniper is spotted within three blocks, my men will broadcast the live execution of Mrs. Moretti straight to every news station in the country. Tik-tok, Dante. The clock is ticking.”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
Dante stared at the blank screen of the phone for a fraction of a second before turning around to face Mateo, who had heard every word from the doorway.
"Gather every elite enforcer we have," Dante commanded, his voice cold as arctic ice. "Surround the Bellevue hospital block in a complete perimeter. Not a fly gets in or out without my permission."
May you like
"Boss, Julian said if we bring backup—" Mateo started.
"I heard what he said," Dante interrupted, stepping into his shoulder holster and strapping two custom Sig Sauer pistols under his jacket alongside a heavy combat knife. "He wants an exchange. He’ll get one. But when this night is over, Julian Vance will learn why nobody touches a Moretti."
