Chapter 17 - The Captive’s Reckoning
By evening, Don Vittoria was dragged into the underground vault beneath the Valente estate.
The room smelled of cold stone and aged wine. Vittoria, his face bruised and his expensive suit ruined, was shoved roughly into a metal chair. He looked up, panting, his eyes wide with terror as he saw Adrienne Valente standing beneath the single overhead bulb.
Adrienne wore no coat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the clean, quiet authority of a man who held life and death in the palm of his hand.
"You..." Vittoria spat, blood dripping from his lip. "You set a trap. You used your own ports as bait."
"You wanted my empire, Vittoria," Adrienne said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he poured a single glass of bourbon. "You thought because I chose to build a garden, I had forgotten how to wield a sword."
"Kill me, then!" Vittoria snarled. "End it!"
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"Killing you is too simple," Adrienne replied, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Your syndicate is gone. Your accounts are frozen. Tomorrow morning, you will board a cargo ship bound for a country where you have no name, no money, and no allies. If you ever set foot in Italy again, Rex will be waiting at the dock."
Vittoria slumped back in the chair, completely broken. The Valente boss wasn't just a killer; he was an executioner who didn't even need to raise his voice to destroy a man's entire existence.
