Chapter 12 - The Traitor Revealed
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The abandoned shipping warehouse on the South Side was dark, smelling of rust, salt, and impending death.
Vincenzo Valenti was tied to a metal chair in the center of the room. He was bleeding from a split lip, struggling against the heavy zip-ties biting into his wrists. He had been intercepted at the airport, trying to flee to Europe with two duffel bags of cash.
The heavy metal doors rolled open, groaning in the silence.
Dominic walked in, wearing his signature charcoal suit, unbuttoned. He looked relaxed, which terrified Vincenzo more than anything else.
“Dominic! Dominic, please, it’s a mistake!” Vincenzo screamed, thrashing in the chair. “The mercenaries lied! I was set up by the Russians!”
Dominic didn't say a word. He walked to a metal table, picked up a heavy wrench, and turned to face his cousin.
“You fired on my daughter, Vincenzo,” Dominic said, his voice eerily calm. “You fired on the woman I love.”
Vincenzo’s eyes widened in panic. “She’s a nobody! A waitress! She made you soft, Dominic! The families were starting to whisper that you lost your edge! I did it for the syndicate! I did it for the Valenti name!”
“The Valenti name means protecting our own,” Dominic stated, taking a slow step forward. “You broke the only rule that matters.”
“We’re blood!” Vincenzo shrieked, desperate. “You can’t kill me! The Commission will demand an inquiry!”
“The Commission gave me their blessing ten minutes ago,” Dominic replied coldly. “Treason against the boss is a death sentence. You wrote your own obituary the moment you signed that wire transfer.”
Dominic didn't use the wrench. He didn't want the satisfaction of a prolonged beating. He was a king dealing with a rat, and rats didn't deserve a warrior's death.
He pulled his suppressed pistol from his holster.
“Tell my wife I said hello,” Dominic whispered.
He pulled the trigger twice.
Vincenzo slumped forward in the chair, lifeless.
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Dominic turned away, holstering his weapon. “Clean this up,” he ordered his men.
The traitor was dead, but the war was far from over. Vincenzo’s betrayal had exposed a vulnerability, and the vultures of the Chicago underworld were already circling, waiting to see if the king could hold his throne.
