10. Matteo
10
Matteo
T he San Gennaro feast is in full motion. Red and gold banners hang from the rafters of the ancient palazzo, flickering candlelight casting silhouettes against centuries-old stone walls. Commissioner members and their entourages fill the grand hall, laughing over something.
I adjust my platinum Bellanti crest cufflinks and scan the room. My men are positioned strategically throughout—Bruno near the eastern entrance, Valentino by the kitchens. Everyone is in place.
"Nervous?" Elena's voice comes from beside me, soft enough that only I can hear.
I turn to look at her, still unsettled by her presence, despite having lost the argument hours ago. Her deep burgundy dress hugs her curves before flowing to the floor, and she has elegantly swept up her dark hair.
"You shouldn't be here," I say, once again.
Her chin lifts slightly. "I earned the right to see this through. To look him in the eyes when he falls. "
She’s right. After what Julian nearly did to her—and to Fiona—Elena deserves whatever closure she seeks.
Her eyes drift to where Don Vincenzo, the eldest Commission member and de facto leader, holds court, as he meets my eyes and nods. The man is dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit, a glass of champagne in one hand, his signature gold watch gleaming.
Three Commission members, whom Julian confirmed were compromised, hover near him.
"It's starting," I murmur to Elena.
Don Vincenzo raises his glass, immediately commanding attention. "Friends, family," he intones, his voice carrying the weight of his seventy years. "Let us honor the feast of our patron saint as we have for generations."
The room quiets, all eyes on the old man. I position myself with a clear view of both entrance and exits.
"Before we begin," Vincenzo continues, "I must address a matter of grave importance to all families represented here."
"Three weeks ago," Vincenzo says, his voice hardening, "information came to light regarding the death of our brother, Don Ares Greco."
A ripple of murmurs moves through the crowd. Greco's death six months ago had been attributed to heart failure—sudden but not suspicious for a man of his age.
"Matteo Bellanti has brought evidence before this Commission that suggests otherwise. "
Vincenzo gestures toward me, and suddenly, all eyes shift my way.
I step forward, feeling Elena move slightly behind me. "What I present tonight will disturb you," I begin, "but the truth must be known if we are to preserve the foundations upon which our world stands."
Before I can signal Valentino, the large wooden doors burst open, and a dozen armed men flood into the room.
"Nobody move!" shouts the leader, a burly man with a scar down his cheek.
The room freezes. I lock eyes with Elena, silently urging her toward the column, but Massimo's voice cuts through the tension.
"I apologize for the dramatic entrance," he says calmly, stepping inside, "but it seems Matteo Bellanti was about to present some... creative storytelling." His eyes find mine. "I couldn't allow such slander to go unchallenged."
"What is the meaning of this?" Don Vincenzo demands. "Weapons drawn at a Commission gathering? This is unforgivable, Caruso!"
"What's unforgivable is the conspiracy to destroy a founding family," Massimo replies smoothly. "Bellanti has been plotting against me for months, fabricating evidence, turning my own men against me."
I scan the room, assessing options. Bruno is no longer in the hall, likely rallying our men from outside. Valentino stands frozen by the control panel. Elena has slid partially behind a column, but she's still too exposed .
"You speak of evidence," I say, keeping my voice level, buying time. "Let the Commission see it for themselves and make their judgment. That's our way."
Massimo laughs. "There will be no judgment today except mine." He nods to his men. "Secure Bellanti and his woman. Kill anyone who interferes."
Two soldiers move toward us, weapons trained on my chest. Suddenly, Elena rushes forward. One man grabs for her, but she's quicker, ducking under his arm and slamming the heel of her hand into his throat. In that moment of distraction, I strike.
My fist connects with the second man's jaw. I feel his bone crack as I twist, ripping the gun from his grip. He crumples as I spin, weapon now in hand, looking for Massimo—but he's already moving behind his bodyguards.
The room erupts into chaos. Commission members dive for cover as gunshots ring out. My men emerge from their disguises, engaging Massimo's forces. Tables overturn, glass shatters.
"Elena!" I call out, losing sight of her in the chaos.
A bullet grazes my left arm, blood immediately soaking my sleeve. I grit my teeth, focusing on the threat. Massimo stands near the main entrance, partially shielded by his remaining men. Our eyes meet across the chaos.
"It's over, Massimo!" I shout. "Your men are falling. Surrender now!"
His response is a bitter smile as he raises his hand, revealing a small device with a red button. "If I can't have it," he says, "neither will you. "
A detonator. Fuck!
Commission members, family leaders, and innocents fill the palazzo. I can’t let them die.
Before I can move, Elena launches herself at him with feral intensity. The impact sends them both crashing to the floor; the detonator skittering across marble tiles.
I'm running toward them instantly. Elena and Massimo grapple on the ground, her elegant dress now torn and bloodied. She's fighting as good as she can, but Massimo is stronger.
As I reach them, Massimo pins Elena beneath him, his hands closing around her throat. I don't hesitate—the butt of my gun crashes down on his skull. He slumps forward, unconscious, and I pull Elena free.
"I'm fine," she gasps. "The detonator—"
I locate it several feet away, crushing it beneath my heel. Around us, the fighting subsides. Massimo's men, seeing their leader fallen, begin to surrender.
Valentino approaches, blood streaming from a cut above his eye but otherwise intact. "Palazzo is secure," he reports. "Five of our men wounded, none critically. Three of the Caruso's were dead, the rest captured or surrendered."
"The Commission?" I ask, still holding Elena close, unwilling to let her go.
"Safe. Don Vincenzo is in the secure room below with the others. They're waiting for you. "
I nod, looking down at Massimo's unconscious form. "Bind him. Tightly. Post our best men as guards."
As Valentino carries out my orders, I turn to Elena, examining the bruises forming on her neck, the cuts on her arms. "You could have been killed," I said, my voice trembling.
Her eyes meet mine, fierce and unapologetic. "So could you. But we weren't."
“You are fucking crazy,” I exhale, pulling her closer, holding her close and feeling her heart race against mine.
An hour later, the Commission members sit in a semicircle, facing Massimo Caruso, who is now conscious and bound to a chair.
Elena stands beside me, gripping my hand tightly.
I present our evidence methodically: video footage of Massimo poisoning Don Greco, medical reports confirming the synthetic toxin, financial records showing bribes to the compromised members, and Julian's testimony detailing Massimo's plan to eliminate the entire commission.
Don Vincenzo rises slowly. "Massimo Caruso, you stand accused of the most grievous violations of our code. The verdict is unanimous. The sentence, death."
Massimo laughs coldly. "If I die, I've still won. You'll never know who else was involved. The rot goes deeper than you can imagine. "
"That's where you're wrong," I counter, nodding to Valentino, who brings forward a final folder. "Your personal ledger. Every name. Every payment. Every secret."
For the first time, I see genuine fear in Massimo's eyes.
Don Vincenzo takes the ledger, his expression grim. "This changes nothing about your sentence. But it ensures your legacy will be one of complete failure."
He turns to me, extending his hand. "Bellanti, today you have preserved the very foundation of our world. The Commission is in your debt."
"Considering today's events," he continues, "the Bellanti family shall henceforth stand as a special ally to the Commission itself. When we have need, we may call upon you—no questions asked, no debts counted."
It's a position of immense power, and also immense danger.
"The Bellanti family is honored," I respond, "and we accept this responsibility."
Nearby, Massimo watches this exchange, his face twisted with hatred. As two of my men move to take him away, he locks eyes with me one last time.
"If I fall," he snarls, "I'm taking you with me, Bellanti."
It happens so fast. He swiftly takes down two of my men and his hands move inside his jacket .
I'm already drawing my weapon when I see the flash of metal, the gun appearing in his hand with practiced speed. I have time only to register that his aim is perfect, that the bullet will find me before I can fire, when Elena moves.
She lunges toward one of my men standing nearby, snatching the gun from his waistband with a fluid motion I didn't know she possessed. Before Massimo can squeeze his trigger, Elena fires—once, twice, three times.
The shots echo through the hall like thunderclaps. Massimo stumbles backward, his unfired gun clattering to the marble floor as his hands clutch at his chest. Three perfect hits. Center mass. His eyes widen in disbelief as he looks at Elena, blood already seeping between his fingers.
"That's for my husband," she says, her voice cutting through the silence that follows the gunshots. "And for everyone else you've destroyed."
Massimo Caruso, terror of the southern families, falls to his knees and then forward onto the cold stone floor. The last breath rattles from his lips as a pool of dark crimson spreads beneath him.
No one moves for several heartbeats. Then Don Vincenzo steps forward, looking from Massimo's body to Elena, who still holds the gun steady in her hands.
"The woman has more courage than most men in this room," he says finally. "And better aim."
Hours later, when we finally leave the palazzo, the night air is cool against my face. Elena walks beside me toward the waiting car .
"You saved my life tonight," I tell her as we slide into the backseat.
"You've saved mine more times than I can count."
"That was different. I'm trained for this."
"And I'm a quick study." A small smile touches her lips. "Besides, I couldn't let him take you from me. From Fiona."
The car pulls away, carrying us back to the estate. Elena leans her head against my shoulder, exhaustion finally claiming her.
I wrap my arm around her, drawing her closer. After what happened tonight, my family has once again gained unprecedented power tonight, securing our position for generations.
But as I feel Elena's breathing against me, I understand that the greatest power I possess has nothing to do with the Commission or family alliances.
It lies because Elena and Fiona are safe, and they are mine to protect. Everything else—the blood, the politics, the empire—is secondary to that essential truth.
As the car carries us home through the darkness, I make a silent vow that nothing will ever threaten my family again.
The thought should feel like a burden, an impossible promise in our world.
Instead, it feels like purpose.