Chapter Ten #2
But Luca isn’t looking at Spike anymore.
He’s looking past him to the corner of the room.
Instinctively, I follow his gaze.
And my blood runs cold.
Because he’s staring straight at Maverick.
Maverick, who was leaning against the wall a second ago like he didn’t have a care in the world…now goes completely still.
Still like a predator who just heard the wrong twig snap.
His eyes lift from his phone, locking onto Luca. Something sharp flashes through them.
Then Luca bows his head.
“We lost Enzo… and three of the children.”
For one heartbeat, nothing moves.
Then Maverick does.
But it isn’t the usual lazy saunter or amused eyebrow.
It’s rage.
Explosive.
Immediate.
Raw.
“Che cazzo hai detto?!” Maverick snarls, shoving off the wall so fast even Bones flinches.
His American accent drops straight through the floor.
What hits the room instead is pure Italian fury. Thick, sharp, slicing the air like a blade.
“Bambini?” he demands. “You’re telling me…children…were killed?”
Luca swallows hard. “I’m so sorry, Boss.”
Maverick’s face is etched with fury and grief as he walks around the table to Luca.
Then he switches languages so fast it’s dizzying.
“Dio santo… no, no… figli di puttana…”
He drags both hands through his hair, pacing a single line before rounding on Luca again.
“What happened? How? We have a dozen fucking safety measures in place. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED, LUCA?”
Luca’s voice is small. Broken.
“It was a package. Delivered to the gate. They… they did not check it before bringing it inside.”
Maverick’s face contorts like the words physically hit him.
“A package,” he repeats, dead calm.
Too calm.
Everyone in the room leans back a little.
Then his voice drops to a deadly whisper.
“I want the guards at the front gate in custody. NOW.”
Luca nods instantly. “Yes, Boss.”
“Take them to the warehouse,” Maverick continues, his accent so heavy now that it’s hard to understand him. “Keep them there until I’m fucking ready.”
Luca signals one of the other Italians, who leaves immediately.
Maverick inhales shakily, rubs his hands over his face, then lifts his head toward Spike.
And what strikes me most isn’t the anger.
It’s the grief.
The kind that guts a man from the inside out.
He lets out a sharp breath, raises both hands like he’s surrendering to the moment, and for the first time since we’ve known him…he looks anything but calm and unbothered.
He’s in agony…so much fucking agony.
“Spike…” Maverick says, voice raw. “Looks like we have some things to talk about.”
Spike just nods, steady and solemn.
“Yeah, brother,” he says quietly. “I think we do.”
And Maverick… fierce, terrifying, American-as-hell (or so we thought) Maverick…
lets the last of his mask slip for the first time since we’ve met him.
“You’re Don Moretti?” Spike asks quietly.
Not accusing. Not yelling. Just… confirming what he already knows.
Maverick doesn’t dodge it. Doesn’t smirk or charm or deflect.
He just nods once, slow and heavy, then sits down in the empty chair on Eli’s other side like the weight of the entire fucking world suddenly doubled.
What’s strange? I don’t feel the urge to swing at him.
I don’t feel the need to drag Eli behind me to protect him from the Italian Mafia’s Boss.
Because, despite the betrayal I feel, my gut tells me that Maverick would never actually betray us.
Doesn’t mean I’m not pissed as all hell.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” I snap. “Damnit, Maverick. We wouldn’t have treated you any differently.”
He lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been locked inside him for years.
“For the same reason I didn’t tell anyone,” he says, accent once again gone, voice low and tired. “I wanted to live a normal life here in the Valley. I didn’t want to be Don Moretti to you. I just wanted to be Maverick.”
“I’ve got one question,” Spike says, lifting Riley’s hand to his face…grounding him. “Did you ever betray us? Use us? Spy on us?”
Maverick meets his eyes without blinking.
“Never.”
And I feel the truth in it. Every damn syllable.
“From the second we became friends,” he continues, “not a single piece of information I learned inside this compound left my mouth. Not to the family. Not to anyone. The only people who knew of your existence were Luca and Enzo. And they only knew your road names.”
“He speaks truth,” Luca says firmly. “We didn’t even know where to find you. The attack… it happened during shift change. Our phones were inside the house. We jumped in the car with nothing. We only knew you were somewhere in Palm Springs, and we had to stop twice for directions.”
He looks at Maverick with genuine fear.
“Don has never spoken a word about your club’s operations. And believe me, I have tried to get details. He nearly shot me for it.”
I smirk, thinking of the many times he’s almost shot me for annoying him.
Maverick just stares straight ahead, hands clasped tight, jaw working like he’s keeping himself from falling apart.
And that’s when I see it…The Don.
Not the outlaw.
Not the drifter.
Not the funny, dangerous bastard who pops in with half-smiles and cryptic advice and then vanishes for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. I see the man who runs a fucking empire. I see the mob boss for what and who he is.
And yet, here he sits, completely exposed and willing to accept fate as the Shadows see fit.
“I only ask one favor before you kill me,” Maverick says, looking Spike dead in the face, voice steady. “Let Luca leave. Let him take revenge on the bastards who killed members of my family.”
“Don.” Luca steps forward immediately, horrified.
Maverick lifts a hand, and Luca freezes.
“You will not interfere,” he snaps, the Italian slicing hard through the American. “You will stand as my consigliere…my second…and you will witness my execution like a fucking Mafia soldier.”
Luca’s eyes go glassy. “Don…please.”
“You will NOT seek revenge on these people… my friends.”
Maverick’s voice is hard as steel.
“You WILL honor the contract I signed. And you WILL help them destroy Los Fantasmas. Do I make myself clear?”
A heartbeat.
Two.
The man looks like he’s breaking open, piece by piece, but he still manages a sharp nod.
“Sì, Don,” Luca nods. His voice trembles, but he holds his ground. “But… if they are your friends, they will not—”
He hesitates, then switches languages, voice low and pleading.
“Don… per favore. Non si sacrifica per loro. La famiglia ha bisogno di lei.”
“Enough,” Maverick says, his voice now cold.
Luca instantly shuts his mouth, but Maverick isn’t finished.
“When you are in the presence of the Shadows,” he says, each word clipped and sharp, “you will speak English.”
Luca swallows. “Don…”
“For respect,” Maverick snaps. “These men are my brothers. My equals. You do not hide your words from them. You do not whisper. You do not switch tongues to speak around them. Ever again. Do I make myself clear?”
Luca stiffens and nods immediately.
“Sì, Don. Clear.”
The entire table goes silent.
Spike’s brows pull together.
Tank shifts like he’s reassessing everything he’s ever known.
Bones looks bored…but I know better.
And Eli?
Eli is gripping my hand like his life depends on it.
“Breathe, pretty boy,” I whisper. “Are you with me?”
Eli tightens his grasp. His eyes are glassy, his chest rising too fast.
Maverick’s head snaps toward us, and his eyes widen, all fury gone in an instant.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he says gently. “I know you don’t know me all that well… but you need to know I would never hurt you. Not any of you. Even if I wanted to, that man of yours would try to kill me.”
I huff out a breath and force myself to sit back in my chair, shoulders relaxed, hoping Eli feels my ease.
“Try, my ass,” I mutter. “I’d have your last breath in my hands before you got your ass out of that chair.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Maverick says dryly, one corner of his mouth lifting.
Eli finally exhales, the tightness in his shoulders easing just a fraction. His hand is still wrapped around mine, but the white-knuckled grip loosens.
I shift my chair closer so our knees touch.
Eli’s breathing steadies the moment our legs brush, and I keep myself anchored right there.
“I have to admit,” Spike finally says, breaking the heavy silence. “I’m at a loss for words, brother. Were you ever going to tell us?”
Maverick doesn’t look away. Doesn’t shrink. Doesn’t bluff.
“No,” he says plainly. “Being part of your club…even as your Outlaw…was the only reprieve I had from my life. I felt… normal here. I didn’t want to lose that.
There was no risk to either of our sides with this knowledge, so I kept it to myself.
Only my closest advisors knew of it. It wasn’t until recent events that I knew things had to change. ”
Bones lifts a brow. “You sound like you’re from here.”
“I worked my ass off to lose my accent,” Maverick admits. “It slips when I’m emotional.”
He takes a breath.
“But I’ll ask again. Please, let Luca leave. He needs to get to my family. He needs to secure what remains of the estate and travel to our main headquarters to begin sorting this shit out.”
“We’re not going to kill you,” Spike mutters, dragging a hand down his face like he can’t believe this is real life.
“I believe you when you said you never passed along club information. And that’s a hell of a thing, considering we let you into some of the most personal war room meetings we’ve ever had. ”
Maverick nods once. No smile. No relief. Just acknowledgment.
Spike leans forward, eyes hard with the weight of everything.
“We need to work together to put Los Fantasmas in the ground,” he says. “And we can’t do that without trust.”
He holds Maverick’s stare.
“Tell me, Maverick… can we trust you? Can we trust your family?”
Maverick stands, slipping his hand inside his pocket, and pulls out a thick gold ring.
I squint at it, confused.
Tank leans closer. Bones tilts his head.
But Luca…Luca goes pale.
“Don…” he breathes. “No. No, you cannot.”