Chapter 6 - The Interrogation of Blood
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Back in the city, the basement of the Moretti estate smelled of damp concrete and copper.
Vincenzo sat strapped to a heavy metal chair in the center of the room. His tailored suit was ruined, his face bruised, but his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. Lorenzo, Dante’s head of security, stood beside him with a heavy wrench in his hand.
The heavy steel door groaned open.
Dante walked in, having briefly returned from the safe house to handle the traitor personally. He took off his suit jacket, rolling up his crisp white sleeves with meticulous, terrifying slowness.
"You moved the body, Dante," Vincenzo chuckled, spitting blood onto the floor. "You think hiding Matteo in the woods is going to save your empire? The Commission already knows you fled your own house. They smell weakness."
"I didn't flee, Vincenzo," Dante said calmly, picking up a silver pair of pliers from the metal table. "I merely relocated my assets so I could focus entirely on you."
"You can't kill me," Vincenzo sneered. "I have half the capos on my payroll. If I die, they will burn your city to the ground. You need me alive to keep the peace."
"I don't want peace," Dante whispered, stepping directly into Vincenzo’s personal space. "I want answers. Who ordered the hit in Newark?"
"I did," Vincenzo spat proudly.
"Lie," Dante said without hesitating. "You don't have the tactical connections to hire the Eastern European mercenaries that ambushed us. You were the middleman. Who supplied the shooters?"
Vincenzo clamped his mouth shut, glaring at the younger boss.
Dante didn't yell. He nodded to Lorenzo.
Lorenzo swung the wrench, shattering Vincenzo’s left kneecap. The older capo screamed in sheer, unadulterated agony, trashing against the heavy zip-ties.
"The snake tattoo on your hand," Dante continued, his voice perfectly level over the screaming. "A three-year-old child saw you injecting poison into my brother’s IV. Did you really think you could assassinate a Moretti in his own bed and get away with it?"
"The kid... that little brat," Vincenzo gasped, tears streaming down his face. "I should have snapped her neck when I had the chance."
Dante’s eyes went completely dead. The cold, calculating boss vanished, replaced by an apex predator. He didn't ask another question. He grabbed Vincenzo by the throat, squeezing until the older man's eyes bugged out.
"The Russian Syndicate," Vincenzo choked out, desperate for air. "It was the Russians! They supplied the men! They want the shipping ports!"
Dante released him, letting Vincenzo gasp for breath.
"Thank you," Dante said softly. He pulled his suppressed pistol from his shoulder holster.
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"Wait! You said you needed me alive!" Vincenzo pleaded.
"I lied," Dante replied, and pulled the trigger.
