Chapter 6 - The Confrontation
The study was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the fireplace embers.
Carlo Ricci sat behind Alessandro’s desk, pouring himself a glass of twenty-year-old scotch. He didn't look like a man who had just orchestrated a massacre. He looked completely calm, his silver hair neatly combed, his expression serene.
The door opened, and Alessandro stepped in, his rifle dripping with blood.
Carlo didn't flinch. He raised his glass in a mock toast. "I assume the West Wing is clear, then?"
"You disabled the alarms, Carlo," Alessandro said, walking slowly toward the desk. "You gave them the codes."
"I did," Carlo admitted smoothly, taking a sip of his drink. "I’ve been giving them information for years, Alessandro. Ever since your father died."
Alessandro felt a surge of cold fury. "Why? My father treated you like a brother. I trusted you with my life."
"Your father was a fool, Alessandro!" Carlo snapped, his calm facade cracking for the first time. "He was weak. He wanted peace with the Sabatinis. He wanted to split the docks, to share the wealth. He didn't have the stomach to do what was necessary to build a true empire. I realized then that if the Moretti family stayed on that path, we would all end up dead."
"So you killed him?" Alessandro asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"I didn't pull the trigger, but I made sure his guards were looking the other way when the Sabatini hitmen arrived at his study twelve years ago," Carlo sneered. "And now, it’s your turn. You are just like him, Alessandro. You’re obsessed with legacy, with honor, with protecting these pathetic, useless people. The Lucchese family offered me half of the Brooklyn docks if I helped them remove you. It was a business decision."
"A business decision," Alessandro repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
He raised his rifle, pointing it directly at Carlo’s chest.
"Go ahead," Carlo smirked, leaning forward. "Kill me. But if I don't check in with the Lucchese handler in five minutes, they will execute the backup plan. They know where every single one of your safehouses is. They know about the pediatric foundation your father set up. They’ll burn it all to the ground, Alessandro. You can't win."
Suddenly, the door to the study burst open.
Marco ran in, his face pale. "Alessandro! We have a problem! The panic room... Elena and Mia are gone!"
Alessandro’s heart stopped. "What do you mean, gone? I told you to keep two men with them!"
"The guards are dead, boss," Marco said, his voice shaking. "They were poisoned. They didn't even have time to draw their weapons. It was a fast-acting neurotoxin. Someone inside the house bypassed the security doors and took them."
Carlo let out a low, amused chuckle. "I told you, Alessandro. I always have a backup plan. The girl and her mother are currently on their way to the Brooklyn docks. If you want them back alive, you will sign over the logistics deeds to the Lucchese family tonight. Otherwise... the little girl’s story ends today."
Alessandro stared at Carlo, the anger in his chest burning so hot it felt like ice.
May you like
He didn't fire his weapon. Instead, he walked over to the desk, grabbed Carlo by his expensive silk tie, and dragged him over the mahogany surface, slamming him hard against the floor.
"Marco," Alessandro growled, his face inches from Carlo’s terrified eyes. "Get the cars ready. We’re going to Brooklyn. And bring Carlo. If a single hair on Mia’s head is harmed, I am going to peel his skin off inch by inch."
