Chapter 5 - The Gathering of the Pack
The next forty-eight hours were a masterclass in tactical retreat and strategic consolidation.
Alessandro did not run. He did not panic. He operated with the cold, calculating precision that had earned him his crown.
He called in every favor, every debt, and every loyal soldier who still remembered his brother Michael’s sacrifice. He moved his cash reserves from the New York banks to secure offshore trusts in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands. He shut down the trucking terminals, rerouting his shipments through independent contractors who owed no allegiance to the union or to Dom Vitucci.
By the third night, the Moretti mansion was no longer a home. It was a fortress under siege.
In the grand dining room, Alessandro stood over a map of the city, surrounded by his remaining captains—men who had refused Dom’s bribes.
"Dom has three hundred men from the Brooklyn docks," Reed, his tactical captain, reported. "And Chicago has sent fifty of their best hitters under the command of Victor Falcone—Sophia’s cousin."
Alessandro’s eyes flicked to the name. Victor Falcone. A man known for his brutality, a man who had been trying to find Sophia for years to claim her share of their grandfather’s hidden estate.
"They think we are cornered here," Alessandro said, his voice flat. "They think because I brought Sophia and the child into the main house, I have lost my mind. They think I will bargain to keep them safe."
"Will you?" Reed asked, his eyes searching his boss's face.
Alessandro looked up from the map. His eyes were cold, dead, and utterly terrifying.
"I don't bargain with dead men, Reed. We let them enter the gates. We let them think they have us surrounded. And then, we turn this house into their mausoleum."
In the hallway outside, Emma stood in her pajamas, clutching her worn teddy bear. She had heard the dark, angry voices of the men in the dining room, but she was not afraid. She walked slowly toward the dining room door, her bare feet making no sound on the marble.
She stopped at the threshold, looking at Alessandro.
"Mr. Wolf?" she called out, her voice small but clear.
The room went instantly silent. Five hardened killers turned to look at the three-year-old girl standing in the doorway.
Alessandro’s face softened in a way that made his captains look away in embarrassment. He walked over, knelt down, and lifted her into his arms.
"I told you, Emma," he whispered, brushing a dark curl from her forehead. "My name is Alessandro."
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"Mama is awake," she said, pressing her face into his neck. "She wants to see you."
"Go back to the guest wing, Reed," Alessandro ordered his men over his shoulder. "Double the guard on the perimeter. We move at dawn."
