Chapter 4 - The Lion's Judgment
The Grand Harbor Hotel was an imposing structure of dark glass and stone overlooking the black waters of Boston Harbor.
In the private penthouse dining room, the leaders of Boston’s four other crime families sat around a massive oval table. At the head of the table sat Don Dante Moretti—an arrogant, aging boss with slicked-back silver hair, expensive gold rings, and a reputation for greedy, reckless ambition.
"He’s playing us!" Dante slammed his fist onto the table, his voice echoing against the mahogany walls. "Matteo Reichi thinks he owns this city! His men snatched Derek Walsh off the street three nights ago without consulting the council! Walsh owed my family fifty grand!"
Across the table, Don Sal Carmine grunted softly. "Reichi doesn't move without a reason, Dante. You know that. If he took Walsh, Walsh stepped out of line."
"I don't care if he stepped out of line!" Dante snarled. "We have rules! Reichi can't just act like a king—"
The heavy double doors of the boardroom swung open with violent force.
The room fell dead silent.
Matteo Reichi stepped inside. He was alone, unescorted by guards, dressed in a flawless dark suit. He walked slowly toward the table, his hands casually tucked into his trousers pockets. The air in the room instantly grew cold, heavy, and suffocating.
"You were saying, Dante?" Matteo asked softly, his voice echoing like thunder in the silent room.
Dante cleared his throat, trying to maintain his tough demeanor, but his eyes flickered with genuine anxiety as Matteo walked right up to the head of the table.
"Matteo," Dante said, standing up to face him. "We were just discussing Derek Walsh. He’s my man. You took him without council approval. That’s a violation of our agreement."
Matteo stood two feet from Dante. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply looked down at the older man with eyes so dark and hollow they looked like twin abysses.
"Derek Walsh," Matteo began slowly, "is a dog who beat a defenseless woman unconscious in her home and terrorized an eight-year-old child."
Dante scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "So what? A domestic dispute? You disrupted our shipping schedules and ignored council meetings over some low-life broad and a kid? What the hell is wrong with you, Reichi? Since when do you care about trash from Southie?"
BANG!
In a move faster than human eyes could follow, Matteo grabbed Dante by his silk necktie, slammed his head violently down onto the mahogany table, and drew a silver signet knife from his belt, pinning Dante’s hand to the wood with a single, brutal thrust.
Dante shrieked in agonizing pain, blood pooling onto the polished table as he writhed in Matteo’s grip.
The other three bosses stood up in shock, drawing their weapons, but Matteo didn't even look at them.
"Listen to me very carefully, all of you," Matteo whispered into Dante’s ear, his voice deadly quiet. "The woman Derek Walsh attacked is under my personal protection. Her daughter is under my personal protection. If any of you, or any of your men, so much as breathe their names... I will burn your families to the ground and feed what’s left to the ocean."
He pulled the knife from the table with a smooth motion, letting Dante collapse onto the floor, clutching his bleeding hand, sobbing in agony.
Matteo wiped the silver blade with a white silk handkerchief, tossing the stained cloth onto Dante’s chest.
"The council meeting is adjourned," Matteo said coldly, scanning the terrified faces of the other crime bosses. "If anyone has a problem with my leadership... step forward now."
No one moved. No one spoke.
Matteo turned on his heel and walked out of the boardroom, leaving the leaders of Boston’s underworld cowering in his wake.
An hour later, Matteo arrived at the isolated warehouse on Pier 9.
The cold sea wind whipped through the rusty corrugated metal building. Inside, illuminated by a single hanging lightbulb, Derek Walsh was tied to a heavy steel chair. He was bruised, dirty, and shivering from cold and fear.
Vincent stood nearby, holding a thick iron pipe.
When the heavy sliding door opened and Matteo walked in, Derek looked up, his eyes wide with panic.
"Please!" Derek begged, his voice raspy and pathetic. "Please, Mr. Reichi! I didn't know who she was! I swear to God I didn't know Sarah was connected to you!"
Matteo walked up to him, looking down at the creature who had terrified Emma.
"She wasn't connected to me, Derek," Matteo said softly. "She was just a mother trying to protect her child. And you broke into her home and tried to destroy them."
"I'll leave town!" Derek wept, blood and tears smearing across his face. "I'll go to California! You'll never see me again! Just don't kill me!"
Matteo looked at Vincent. "Is his boat ready?"
"Yes, boss," Vincent replied. "A cargo freighter heading to container docks in South America. He’ll be working twenty-hour shifts in a engine room for the next ten years. If he steps off the ship, our contacts in Brazil will put a bullet in his spine."
Matteo leaned down, looking Derek straight in his bloodshot eyes.
"Death is too clean for you, Derek," Matteo said coldly. "You are going to spend the rest of your miserable life working in darkness, knowing that Sarah and Emma are safe, happy, and protected by a man you can never touch."
Matteo turned away, walking back toward the exit. "Get him on the ship."
"Yes, boss," Vincent said.
As Matteo stepped out into the night air, he pulled out his phone. He looked at the time: 9:45 p.m.
May you like
He remembered his promise to Emma.
He climbed into his sedan and drove back toward the North End, leaving the darkness of his old life behind, speeding toward the warmth of the only home he had ever truly known.
