Chapter 11 - The Bitter Truth
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The gunfire outside the compound seemed to fade into a dull, distant hum. The heavy silence in the hallway was suffocating.
“My father ordered the strike on the Falcone estate,” Elias stated coldly, his eyes locked onto his uncle. “To secure the ports.”
“Your father was a brute, but he was a cautious brute,” Silvio laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed off the marble walls. “He didn't want a war with the Corsicans. He wanted to negotiate a treaty. But I knew a treaty would leave us weak.”
Silvio pressed the revolver harder against the sobbing maid’s head, adjusting his grip.
“I forged the orders, Elias,” Silvio confessed, his silver eyes gleaming with dark pride. “I paid the enforcers from my own accounts. I ordered the slaughter of the Don, his wife, and their children. And when your father found out what I had done, I convinced him that backing down would make him look weak to the commission. He took the blame to protect the family name.”
Seraphina felt the blood drain completely from her face. The monster who had orchestrated the murder of her family wasn't dead. He was standing ten feet away, smiling.
Elias went perfectly still. The realization that he had spent his entire life living under the shadow of a massacre his father hadn't even initiated shattered the final remnants of his restraint.
“You murdered an entire family,” Elias whispered, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, absolute hatred. “And then you tried to murder me.”
“It was just business, nephew,” Silvio sneered.
“Let the girl go, Silvio,” Seraphina suddenly spoke up, her voice ringing clear and authoritative in the hallway. She stepped out from behind Elias’s protective bulk.
“Seraphina, get back,” Elias warned harshly.
“You want to finish the job you started twenty years ago?” Seraphina challenged, staring directly into the eyes of the man who had ordered her death. She unzipped her jacket, pulling the collar of her shirt down slightly to reveal the jagged, horrific scar on her shoulder. “Here I am. Shoot me. Let the maid go.”
Silvio’s eyes darted to the scar. For a fraction of a second, the ghost of his past sins distracted him. His grip on the maid loosened just a millimeter as he stared at the physical proof of his failed massacre.
It was all Elias needed.
Elias didn't use the rifle. He drew a heavy throwing knife from his tactical vest with terrifying speed and hurled it with brutal, mechanical precision.
The blade buried itself deep into Silvio’s right shoulder.
Silvio screamed, dropping the revolver. The maid collapsed to the floor, scrambling away in pure terror.
Elias closed the distance in two massive strides. He tackled his uncle to the ground, pulling the knife free and pressing the bloody blade directly against Silvio’s throat.
“You wanted the throne, Uncle,” Elias growled, his face inches from the traitor. “Now you die at the foot of it.”
“Wait,” Seraphina said, stepping forward.
Elias paused, looking up at her, his eyes wild with adrenaline and violence.
“Don't kill him,” Seraphina commanded softly. “Death is too easy for a man like him.”
Elias stared at her, the knife hovering over his uncle’s jugular. “What do you want me to do with him?”
“The commission demands proof of treason,” Seraphina replied, her voice cold and unyielding. “We have the audio files. We have him alive. Hand him over to the other families. Let them see the coward who broke the treaties. Let him rot in a cell in absolute disgrace.”
Elias looked at the pathetic, bleeding man pinned beneath him. He slowly lowered the knife.
“Stefan!” Elias roared.
May you like
Guards rushed up the stairs.
“Bind his wounds. Take him to the lower holding cells at the estate,” Elias ordered, standing up and wiping the blood from his hands. “He belongs to the commission now.”
