Chapter Ten #3
Maverick doesn’t even glance at him.
He steps forward and sets the ring gently on the table in front of Spike.
“What is this?” Spike asks, brows knitting.
Luca makes a choked sound, but Maverick lifts a hand sharply.
“Silence, Luca.”
The man obeys instantly.
Maverick turns back to Spike.
“This,” he says, gently touching the ring, “is my cresta di sangue.”
Tank frowns. “Your… what now?”
Crusher mutters, “Sounds like a pastry.”
Luca looks physically ill.
What the hell is going on?
Maverick drags in a slow breath, trying…and failing…to keep the emotion out of his voice.
“It is my blood crest,” he explains, retaking his seat. “The ring has passed from Don to heir for generations. It is the symbol of my family’s authority. My name. My legacy. My entire empire.”
The room goes quiet, but not understanding quiet.
More like oh-shit-we’re-missing-something-important quiet.
Spike glances between Maverick and the ring.
“And you’re giving it to me… why?”
Luca’s eyes widen. “He is not giving it…Don, you must explain or they will not—”
Maverick shoots him a look so sharp, Luca snaps his mouth shut.
Then Maverick turns back to Spike.
“Because this ring does not change hands,” he says. “Ever. Not even to my own brothers by blood. Only to the one man I trust above all others to lead if I fall.”
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
Maverick continues, voice quiet but carved in granite.
“This ring means my soldiers will follow your orders as if they were mine. It means if I die in this war, my family rallies behind you. My territory. My resources. My men. My bloodline. Everything.”
Crusher mutters, “Holy shit…”
“And in the meantime,” he adds, voice dropping into that cold, quiet steel that absolutely is the Don beneath the Maverick we know, “my men will trust you simply because they do what they’re fucking told… or they face the consequences.”
His gaze flicks to Luca.
“And what are those consequences, Luca?”
Luca straightens like someone pulled a wire through his spine.
His voice is barely above a whisper.
“Depends on the sin, Don,” he says. “The lightest punishment is banishment from the Moretti clan.”
He hesitates. Swallows.
“The harshest punishment,” he continues, voice trembling despite the steel he’s trying to hold, “is not simply death. For betrayal within the Moretti family,” he says, voice dropping to a haunted whisper, “the condemned is… dismantled. Slowly. Piece by piece. Over several days. Sometimes longer. The kill wouldn’t happen until the very last moment. ”
Bones exhales a quiet, “My second favorite method.”
Spike stares at the ring like it’s a viper waiting to strike.
Finally, he lifts his gaze.
“I don’t want this,” Spike says, low and steady. “I’m not looking for that kind of power.”
He holds Maverick’s eyes.
“I trust you,” Spike continues. "I don’t need an empire to make it real.”
“Same here,” I add. “Ring or no ring, you’re still our brother.”
One by one, everyone nods.
“Knew there was more to you,” I smirk. “I tried like hell to dig up information on you, but I didn’t have your last fucking name, and you would never give it to me…sneaky fucker.”
Maverick smirks and shakes his head.
“You were relentless, that’s for sure,” he says before looking back to Spike.
“I know you don’t want it,” he says. “I didn’t offer it because you crave power, Spike. I offered it because if I fall in this war… someone has to keep the Moretti empire from collapsing long enough for the rightful heir to rise.”
Spike freezes.
The entire room does.
Maverick continues:
“If I die before I have a son and he’s not ready for the chair, the ring goes to Luca only as a placeholder…a steward. He holds it until my son comes of age, and then he will yield it without hesitation.”
Luca’s chin raises with fierce devotion.
“And if I never have a son,” Maverick says, voice gentling in a way that hits like a bruise, “then Luca will guard the ring until he has a son of his own. And his son will be raised for the role. So, take it. Hide it. Pray you never need it. But if the day comes… you will be the one who decides whether my family lives or dies. Should you choose not to accept that responsibility, then Luca will step up. But, as of right now, he’s not ready.
So, this is how I show you that I trust you, Spike.
I freely give you my empire to care for until Luca is ready for that responsibility. ”
Spike closes his fingers slowly around the ring.
And for a heartbeat, no one breathes.
Because everyone in the damn room understands exactly what just happened.
This isn’t just a ring. This isn’t just an alliance.
This is surrender. This is devotion.
This is a Don kneeling without ever touching the ground.
“This is intense,” Eli mutters under his breath.
Riley snorts, and Sunny wheezes. Within seconds, both women are laughing like they’ve been holding it in for ten minutes.
“You’re so right, Eli,” Riley manages, wiping her eyes.
“Maverick,” Abby says softly, “are your men… kind?”
And just like that, the laughter dies.
Of course, that’s her question.
Of course, she wants to know if the men of the Italian Mafia are gentle.
Because she’s seen the opposite. She’s lived the opposite.
And deep down, she’s probably always terrified of meeting it again.
Maverick opens his mouth, but he never gets the chance to answer.
Because Luca steps forward.
Then he kneels beside Abby’s chair.
Slow. Respectful. No theatrics. No swagger. Just a man lowering himself to her level because he most likely sees what we all see when we look at Abby. Something fragile and yet…pure.
He studies her face with a soft frown.
“Signorina… in the Moretti family, a man who is unkind does not remain a man for long.”
Abby’s breath catches.
Luca continues, voice lowering even further.
“We are raised to protect. To cherish. To honor la donna…women…because they are the heart of our home. The breath of our family. Any man who harms a woman…” He shakes his head slowly.
“He is not our brother. He is not our blood. He is… nothing. Our Don…your friend…would never allow such scum to tarnish the Moretti name. You are safe with every male of ours you encounter. Some may seem harsh and emotionless…much like your Bones…but all are safe.”
Abby blinks rapidly, overwhelmed.
And then, like dawn cracking through clouds, she smiles.
A small smile.
But a real one.
Then Luca rises and steps back.
Spike clears his throat.
“Alright,” he says, voice steady. “Foster, move everyone to the bunker. Set up shop below until we return. Check structural integrity, make sure the place can withstand a bomb. The specs for the place are down there in the kitchen. I want five prospects and all chapter leaders down there with you.”
“Yes, Prez,” Foster says, already on his phone. Most likely to call in the prospects and chapter heads.
“Tank,” Spike continues, “you and Crusher take point on defense. I want guards on every perimeter. Every rooftop. Every blind spot. Put drones in the sky. Shut down all traffic to and from the compound. No one enters, no one leaves without my approval.”
Tank’s jaw flexes. “On it.”
“Knuckles,” Spike says, leveling him with a look, “you’re down below running security. Do. Not. Argue. With me. I don’t care how fucking strong you think you are. Your lungs don’t give a shit about your strength. I’m not having you collapse on me in the middle of wartime.”
Knuckles bristles…but swallows it. “Understood.”
“Keep watch over the security feeds while Foster works on the bunker,” Spike adds.
Knuckles nods, clearly not happy with being put on the sideline.
“Bones. Tank. You’re with me. We’re heading back with Maverick to secure his property. Bones, I need you to call in Shadow reinforcements.
Bones nods.
He turns toward Maverick.
“Maverick,” Spike says, voice low, “I need everything. Every detail. Every threat. Every hole in your defenses. My people… your people… are counting on us to make the right moves. So from this moment forward, we operate as one.”
Maverick stands slowly, the mask back on his face, his expression carved from stone.
“As one,” he agrees, lifting his phone. “I already have my tech team back in L.A. tracing the man who delivered the package.”
“You have a Foster?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“I have many Fosters,” Maverick smirks back.
“Fuck,” Spike mutters, looking at his own phone. His whole face drains of color. “We just received a package.”
No one moves.
No one breathes.
And then my survival instincts take over.
I grab Eli’s hand and rush from the room, without thinking, without giving a single solitary fuck about orders.
“Move,” I snap, dragging him out of the room and toward the basement.
Eli barely manages to keep up, breath coming fast. “Skip. What’s going on?”
Bones blows past us like a bull seeing red, Sunny clutched tight in his arms.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” he roars at the bunker guard.
The guard fumbles through codes and keys, but finally, the first reinforced door swings open with a heavy metallic clank. We sprint through the narrow hallway down several more feet of earth before reaching the second door. This one leads straight into the bunker.
“Get them secured and meet me by the gate!” Spike orders behind us, practically shoving Riley inside ahead of him.
“Asher!” Riley cries out, voice cracking.
“Already inside, baby,” Spike assures her, pushing her toward safety. “Bree and Micah too.”
“I have my bomb experts en route to check the package,” Maverick calls as he enters behind us.
“You have bomb experts?” Abby squeaks…because apparently this is the moment for that question.
“Yes,” Maverick growls. “All packages go through them before anything reaches the house. All packages. Which every single one of my guards knows.”
His voice darkens.
“Someone was either lazy…or someone betrayed me. Either way,” Maverick finishes, voice low and lethal, “he will be a lesson to anyone stupid enough to underestimate the Italian Mafia.”