Chapter 6 - The Trap is SetForty-eight hours later, the underworld of upstate New York was buzzing with a dangerous rumor: Vincent Bellandi was vulnerable. Word had leaked—carefully planted by Leo Mercer—that the attack on the estate had left the crime boss physically incapacitated, his medical supplies running low, and his security detail divided.
In a sprawling, heavily guarded warehouse down by the frozen harbor, Marco Salvatore sat at the head of a long steel table, swirling amber whiskey in a heavy crystal glass.
Standing nervously beside him was Philip Hastings, sweating profusely despite the freezing chill of the warehouse.
"You said he was finished, Marco!" Philip stammered, wringing his hands. "If Bellandi finds out I'm here—if he finds out I helped you—he’ll skin me alive!"
Salvatore slammed his glass down, the liquid sloshing over the rim. He stood up, towering over the older man, and grabbed Philip by the lapel of his expensive suit, lifting him onto his tiptoes.
"Shut your mouth, you pathetic worm," Salvatore hissed, his face twisted in a snarl. "Bellandi is trapped in that mausoleum of his. Tonight, we hit the estate with everything we have. We take the ledgers, we take the accounts, and we put a bullet through Vincent’s brain. And you? You get your freedom and your offshore accounts back. Now stop whining."
He shoved Philip back into a metal chair just as the heavy metal doors of the warehouse slid open.
A man stepped out of the shadows. It wasn't one of Salvatore’s enforcers.
It was Leo Mercer.
Salvatore’s hand instantly dropped to the pistol at his hip, but he froze when he saw that Leo was completely alone, his hands raised palms-up in a gesture of surrender.
"What is this?" Salvatore sneered, stepping forward. "Did the cripple finally send his lapdog to beg for mercy?"
Leo didn't smile. He looked at Salvatore with cold, dead eyes.
"Mr. Bellandi knows you're coming tonight," Leo said steadily. "He also knows Philip Hastings is here."
Philip went pale as a corpse, shrinking back into his chair. "You... you knew?"
"The boss knows everything, Philip," Leo replied smoothly. Then, he looked directly at Salvatore. "Mr. Bellandi sends an invitation. He’s waiting for you at the old copper mill at midnight. Just you, your inner circle, and Philip. Bring the ledgers. Bring your weapons. Let's settle this once and for all."
Salvatore let out a harsh, barking laugh. "A trap? He thinks he can ambush me? We outnumber him ten to one!"
"If you don't come," Leo said quietly, turning toward the exit, "Mr. Bellandi releases every financial record, every wire transfer, and every murder contract linking you, Salvatore, to the federal district attorney by sunrise."
Leo walked out into the night, leaving the heavy doors echoing shut behind him.
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Salvatore stared at the closed doors, his chest heaving with rage. But beneath the anger, a cold seed of unease took root.
"Get the boys ready," Salvatore snarled to his second-in-command. "If Bellandi wants to die in the dirt, we'll give him a front-row seat."
