Chapter 7 - The Trap in the Fog
The atmosphere inside the silo turned instantly electric.
Matteo didn't draw his weapon. He stepped directly in front of me, his broad back completely shielding my body from Leo’s armed men. Marco and the two enforcers drew their handguns, taking positions behind the steel frame of the vault door.
“Leo,” Matteo said, his voice chillingly calm, as if he were greeting a guest at a dinner party. “I wondered when you would show up.”
“Did you really think I wouldn't notice my property servers being probed?” Leo sneered, taking a step forward while his men spread out in a semi-circle, cutting off our exit. “I’ve been tracking your little accountant since she started visiting your penthouse. A cripple from a greasy spoon diner... Is that the best the great Matteo Moretti could hire to replace Julian?”
I felt a surge of hot anger rush through my veins at his words, but I kept quiet, clinging tightly to the folder containing his death warrant.
“Julian was ten times the man you will ever be, Leo,” Matteo said quietly. “He trusted you because you married our sister. You murdered my brother for money you couldn't spend without my permission.”
Leo’s eyes flashed with bitter, long-suppressed jealousy. “Julian looked down on me! Your whole damn family looked down on me! I was the 'outsider,' the real estate guy who had to ask for scraps from the Moretti table! I ran the numbers, Matteo! I made you millions, and Julian took all the credit!”
“So you put a bomb under his car,” Matteo said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying the weight of an executioner’s sentence.
“I cleared my own path!” Leo spat. “And now, I’m going to clear yours. The Family Commission already thinks you’ve gone soft, Matteo. Sparing that waitress at Maggie’s Diner... letting Pete Delaney slide on his debts... the old bosses are whispering that the great Matteo has lost his edge.”
He leveled his gun directly at Matteo’s chest.
“When I carry your body out of this silo, I’ll tell the Commission that the North Side ambushed you. Elena will inherit your seat, and as her loving husband, I will run Chicago.”
Matteo let out a low, dark laugh that echoed off the high concrete walls of the silo.
“You always were terrible at math, Leo,” Matteo said.
Leo froze, his brow furrowing. “What?”
“You counted six men in your security detail tonight,” Matteo said, raising his hand to check his watch. “You forgot to count the coast guard boat sitting two hundred yards off the riverbank... and the twenty men Marco brought through the basement water line.”
Before Leo could react, red laser sight dots bloomed across the chests of all six of Leo’s enforcers.
The darkness above us came alive.
From the high metal rafters of the silo, four elite Moretti shooters lowered themselves on tactical ropes, their weapons pointed directly at Leo’s head. The sudden, deafening roar of a police boat siren echoed from the river outside, illuminated by bright searchlights tearing through the fog.
Leo’s men dropped their weapons instantly, raising their hands in sheer terror.
Leo went pale as death, his hand shaking so violently the gun almost slipped from his grip. “No... No, this is a mistake! Matteo, please! We’re family! Think of Elena!”
Matteo took three slow, deliberate steps toward Leo. He didn't look at the guns. He didn't look at the laser dots. He looked at the coward who had broken his family.
With a lightning-fast motion, Matteo grabbed Leo’s wrist, twisted it back until the revolver clattered to the floor, and drove a vicious knee into Leo’s stomach.
Leo collapsed onto the cold concrete, gasping for air, clutching his ribs as he wept.
Matteo stood over him, looking down with absolute disgust. He reached into his coat and pulled out a clean white silk handkerchief, wiping his hands as if he had touched garbage.
“Take him to the warehouse in Cicero,” Matteo ordered Marco calmly. “Call Elena. Tell her her husband has been called out of town on urgent business. She will receive her divorce papers by Monday.”
“What about the evidence, boss?” Marco asked, holding up the folder I had recovered.
May you like
Matteo turned his head, his grey eyes softening instantly as they rested on me.
“Give the folder to Clara,” Matteo said gently. “She earned it.”
