Chapter 17 - The Traitor Unmasked
Thirty minutes later, the remaining three capos of the Falcone syndicate were dragged into the medical wing by armed enforcers, forced violently to their knees on the white tile floor.
Toby’s breathing had stabilized, the antidote finally fighting off the poison in his small frame, but he remained unconscious under heavy medical sedation.
Dileia stood beside the examination table, her hand resting on her brother’s chest. Her eyes were fixed on the three men kneeling before her.
Adriano stepped forward, walking slowly around the circle of capos like a predator inspecting his prey. In his hand, he held a small, silver signet ring embossed with a falcon head—a ring that had been found lying on the floor beside the kitchen sink.
He stopped directly in front of Paolo Moretti.
The old capo didn't flinch. He kept his head up, his graying beard stained with sweat, but his eyes were hard and unyielding.
"Paolo," Adriano said softly. "Thirty years. You carried my father's coffins. You watched me grow up. Why?"
Paolo let out a harsh, bitter laugh, spitting a drop of blood onto the pristine white tile. "Because your father lost his vision, Adriano! And you—you let a penniless waitress walk into our stronghold and start rewriting our rules. You turned a syndicate into a domestic housekeeping service. The Verhovens promised that if I weakened you from the inside—if I took your heir—you would step down and let the old guard take back control."
Dileia stepped away from Toby’s bedside. She walked toward Paolo with slow, deliberate steps, her face an unreadable mask of absolute ice.
Paolo looked up at her, sneering. "What are you going to do, little waitress? Shoot me?"
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"No," Dileia said quietly. "Shooting is too quick for a coward who poisons a child."
She looked at Adriano. Her husband didn't say a word. He simply reached into his holster, unclipped a pair of heavy steel zip-ties, and handed them to her.
