Chapter 8 - The Viper's Nest
The meeting was held at an old, abandoned cathedral on the outskirts of South Philadelphia—a neutral ground that had been used by the city's syndicates for generations.
The air inside the cathedral was damp and freezing, smelling of wet stone, old incense, and the faint, bitter scent of decay.
I walked beside Alessandro, my hand resting securely on his arm. He wore his heavy black coat, his shoulder holster hidden beneath the wool, while I wore a simple black velvet dress and the teardrop glass bottle of orange blossom oil pinned to my collar like a brooch.
At the altar stood Emiliano Caruso, a man who smelled of sour wine, cheap cologne, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. He was surrounded by ten of his top soldiers, their hands resting near their waistbands.
"Alessandro," Emiliano said, his voice raspy, dry. "I am glad you accepted the invitation. I see you brought your... companion."
"She is my wife, Emiliano," Alessandro said, his voice vibrating through the empty nave of the cathedral like a tolling bell.
I gasped softly, my heart skipping a beat. We had not spoken of marriage, yet the word fell from his lips with an absolute, unquestionable certainty that made my soul sing.
"Your wife," Emiliano sneered, his eyes sliding over me. "A bold move, Alessandro. But a blind queen is still a vulnerable one."
"She is not vulnerable, Emiliano," Alessandro said, taking a step forward, pulling me with him. "Because she can smell your fear from here. She knows your warehouses in the north are empty. She knows you sold your remaining shipments to the Jersey crews just to pay off your debts. And she knows that you are currently holding a dead man's hand."
Emiliano’s breathing hitched, his footsteps taking a small, panicked step back. "This is nonsense! We have the backing of the commission!"
"The commission does not support cowards who throw firebombs at innocent women," Alessandro said, his hand slowly reaching into his coat.
Instantly, ten gun barrels clicked into place from the Caruso side. But before they could fire, the heavy wooden doors of the cathedral burst open.
Marco and thirty Moretti soldiers flooded the sanctuary, their automatic weapons pointing directly at the heads of the Caruso crew. They had bypassed the outer guards without making a single sound.
"The meeting is over, Emiliano," Alessandro whispered, his voice dropping to that low, terrifying growl. "You will pack your bags, you will sell your docks to my syndicate for ten cents on the dollar, and you will leave this city by midnight. If I see your face in Philadelphia tomorrow, I won't just kill you. I will erase your entire name from the history of this city."
Emiliano looked at Alessandro, then at the thirty soldiers surrounding his men, and finally at me. He realized, with a sudden, sinking certainty, that the monster of the Moretti family had found something more powerful than greed.
May you like
He had found devotion.
"We leave," Emiliano whispered, his voice broken.
