Chapter 3 - The Lies of Don Marco
By 2:00 a.m., the rain had begun to fall over the city, slicking the dark asphalt of the private parking garage beneath the hotel.
Matteo walked briskly down the concrete ramp, his heavy leather jacket pulled over his black dress shirt. Beside him, wearing a dark oversized hoodie Matteo had pulled from his luggage and a pair of simple leggings, walked Sofia. She looked minuscule beside him, her small hand buried deep inside the hoodie’s pocket, her eyes darting nervously at every shadow.
Standing beside a sleek, black bulletproof SUV were two of Matteo’s most trusted men—Leo and Dante. Both were built like brick walls, wearing dark coats that barely concealed their shoulder holsters.
When Leo saw his boss walking out of the elevator four hours early, accompanied by a bride in sweatpants instead of a silk gown, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Boss?" Leo asked, stepping forward, his voice low. "Is there a problem with the suite? The Moretti family hasn't sent the signed land deeds over yet—"
"Marco lied to us," Matteo interrupted flatly, sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV. "Get in."
Leo and Dante exchanged a quick, grim glance. In the Moretti syndicate, an accusation like that wasn't just a political insult; it was a declaration of total war. Without asking another question, both men slipped into the back seat, their hands resting instinctively near their jacket collars.
Sofia hesitated at the passenger door, staring at the leather interior as if stepping inside would seal her fate forever.
"Get in, Sofia," Matteo said, his voice softer than before, but firm. "Nobody is going to hurt you in this car."
She swallowed hard and climbed inside, pulling the seatbelt across her chest, pressing herself as close to the passenger door as possible.
Matteo fired up the heavy V8 engine. The roar echoed through the concrete cavern of the garage. He threw the vehicle into reverse and sped out onto the rain-slicked city streets.
"Where are we going, Boss?" Dante asked from the rear seat, his dark eyes watching the side mirrors for tails.
"The safehouse on Lake Shore," Matteo replied, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Leo, call the doctor. I want Vance at the house in twenty minutes. Tell him to bring a full trauma kit and soft dressings."
"Doctor?" Leo repeated, glancing toward the front passenger seat. "Boss, if Marco finds out we moved her before the treaty sheets were verified—"
"Marco beat his daughter within an inch of her life to make her stand at that altar, Leo," Matteo spat, his knuckles turning white over the leather steering wheel. "He chained her up like an animal and threatened her brother to keep her quiet."
The interior of the SUV fell into a suffocating silence. Even the hardened enforcers in the back seat seemed to hold their breath.
In the mafia underworld, violence against enemies was business. But abusing a syndicate daughter—a woman sold as a diplomatic bride to forge a sacred blood alliance—was a violation of the old code. It meant the treaty was built on fraud. It meant Don Marco viewed Matteo not as a partner, but as a fool to be tricked.
"What about the brother?" Matteo asked, glancing at Sofia through the rearview mirror.
May you like
Sofia’s head snapped toward him, her pale face illuminated by the green dashboard lights. "His name is Leo... no, sorry, Julian. He's twelve. My father has him locked in the estate’s east wing under guard. He told Julian if I didn't obey... he'd send him to the military academy in Sicily."
"Your father isn't sending anyone to Sicily," Matteo said, his voice dropping into a cold, terrifying register that made the glass windows vibrate. "Because before the sun comes up tomorrow, your father is going to answer to me."
