Chapter 11 - The Purge
|
Panic erupted immediately, but it was a quiet, suppressed panic. No one wanted to make sudden movements, terrified they would be the first one shot.
Chairs scraped loudly against the marble floor as heavily armed, dangerous men scrambled over each other to leave the table. They didn't speak. They didn't offer apologies. They just practically ran for the grand double doors, desperate to escape the wrath of the paralyzed boss.
Lorenzo tried to blend into the retreating crowd, keeping his head down and moving quickly toward the exit.
“Not you, Lorenzo,” Matteo’s voice cracked like a whip across the emptying room.
Lorenzo froze mid-step, his shoulders dropping in defeat.
“And not you, Celeste,” Matteo added softly, not even looking at his fiancée.
Within sixty seconds, the bustling, crowded ballroom was completely empty, save for Matteo, Elena standing stoically behind him, a terrified Lorenzo standing near the doorway, and a weeping Celeste still in her chair.
The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind the last escaping capo, leaving a suffocating silence in their wake.
Matteo didn't speak immediately. He calmly picked up a clean linen napkin, wiped a speck of dust off the barrel of his gun, and set it back down on the table, keeping it within easy reach.
He finally looked at Lorenzo.
“You moved fast, my friend,” Matteo said, his voice deceptively conversational. “I haven't even been in the chair for three months, and you’re already drinking my wine and trying on my crown.”
May you like
“Matteo, you have to understand,” Lorenzo pleaded, taking a cautious step forward, his hands raised in surrender. “The families were restless. The streets were getting chaotic. We needed to project strength. I only stepped up to keep the empire intact for you.”
“Don't insult my intelligence, Lorenzo,” Matteo snarled, a flash of pure rage finally breaking through his calm facade. “You paid the hitman who put the bullet in my spine.”
