Chapter 16 - The Grand Continental
|
The subterranean vault of the Grand Continental Hotel was designed for secrecy. It was a massive, windowless room built of marble and mahogany, where the heads of the Five Families determined the fate of the criminal underworld.
Carmine Moretti sat at the head of the circular table, looking like a benevolent king. He was flanked by heavily armed guards. The other four bosses sat quietly, waiting for the execution of a traitor.
The heavy brass doors swung open.
Dante walked in alone.
He wore a pristine black suit, his hands empty, projecting an aura of absolute, terrifying calm.
"Dante," Carmine sneered, feigning disappointment. "You have broken the sacred trust of this Commission. You lied about your brother's death to steal my power. You are a traitor to your own blood."
"I am a lot of things, Uncle," Dante replied smoothly, walking toward the table. "But I am not a liar."
"The evidence says otherwise," Boss Falcone growled from the side. "Your men were spotted moving a patient from a safe house last night. You’ve been hiding Matteo."
"I haven't been hiding him," Dante smiled, a cold, dangerous expression. "I’ve been waiting for him to recover enough to tell you exactly who ordered the hit that put him in a coma."
Dante stepped aside.
The heavy doors opened again.
Matteo Moretti walked into the room. He leaned slightly on a silver-handled cane, his face scarred and pale, but his presence hit the room like a nuclear bomb.
The bosses gasped. Carmine’s smug expression completely evaporated, replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.
"Hello, Uncle," Matteo said, his voice a low, lethal rumble that echoed off the marble walls. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
Matteo slowly walked to the table, staring dead into Carmine’s eyes.
"I remember everything, Carmine," Matteo stated loudly for the entire room to hear. "I remember the shooters in Newark. I remember the insignia on their jackets. They weren't a rival family. They were your personal enforcers. You ordered my assassination to take control of the eastern seaboard."
The room erupted into chaotic murmurs. Accusing a patriarch of ordering a hit on his own nephew was a violation of the highest mafia code.
"He's lying!" Carmine roared, standing up in a panic. "The brain damage has made him delusional! It was the Russians! I have proof!"
"You have nothing," Dante interrupted, pulling a small silver flash drive from his pocket and tossing it onto the table. "That drive contains the bank transfers from Carmine’s offshore accounts to the mercenary leaders who ambushed us. I acquired it this morning from your corrupt accountant."
May you like
Carmine realized the trap had snapped shut. The other bosses were glaring at him with murderous intent. He was surrounded.
"Kill them!" Carmine shrieked at his guards.
