CHAPTER 26 POWER VACUUM
Vincent Moretti’s body hit the floor with a wet thud, blood pooling beneath him like a dark halo. The room froze for a heartbeat, the air thick with shock and the metallic tang of death. Then chaos erupted.
Dominic Moretti slammed a fist on the table, his voice cutting through the din.
“Enough! We need order, not panic!” His eyes swept the room, calculating, already moving to fill the vacuum Vincent’s death created.
He stepped forward, his presence commanding, but before he could assert himself, Anthony Moretti stepped into his path.
Anthony’s voice was low, edged with steel.
“You’re not the only one with a claim here, Dominic.”
He didn’t raise his hand, but his stance was unmistakable—a challenge, a declaration of blood rights.
The tension between them crackled like live wire, and the room divided instantly.
Men shifted, subtly aligning themselves with one brother or the other.
The Moretti family, already fractured, splintered further.
From the shadows, Dario Vitale watched, his expression unreadable.
He leaned against the wall, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm against the wood grain.
He didn’t move to intervene, didn’t speak to calm the storm.
Instead, he let it rage, his sharp eyes tracking every shift in the room.
Let them weaken each other, he thought. Let them burn themselves out.
Evelyn Crane knelt beside Tommy Caruso, her hands steady as she pressed a cloth to the gash on his arm. Blood seeped through the fabric, staining her fingers, but she didn’t flinch. Tommy winced but didn’t pull away, his jaw clenched tight.
“You’re lucky it’s not deeper,” Evelyn murmured, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “Next time, don’t play hero.”
Tommy shot her a glare, but there was no heat in it. “I wasn’t playing. Someone had to—”
“Someone had to stay alive,” Evelyn interrupted, her tone sharp. She tied the makeshift bandage with practiced efficiency, then met his gaze. “You’re no good to anyone dead.”
Tommy glanced toward the center of the room, where Dominic and Anthony stood like opposing generals. “What the hell do we do now?”
Evelyn followed his gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We wait. We plan. And we don’t get caught in the crossfire.”
Tommy’s expression darkened. “Dario’s just standing there. Why isn’t he—”
“Because he’s smarter than the rest of them,” Evelyn said, cutting him off again. “He knows when to move and when to let the wolves tear each other apart.”
Tommy frowned but didn’t argue. He trusted Dario, even when he didn’t understand him.
Across the room, Dominic raised his voice again, his tone dripping with authority. “This family needs a leader, and I’m the one who—”
“You’re the one who what?” Anthony shot back, stepping closer. His voice was quieter but no less dangerous. “You think birth order makes you fit to lead? Vincent’s blood is still warm, and you’re already clawing for his chair.”
Dominic’s face twisted in anger, but before he could respond, Dario finally pushed off the wall. He didn’t step into the fray, didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he moved toward the door, his calm a stark contrast to the chaos around him.
Evelyn’s eyes tracked him, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. She leaned closer to Tommy, her voice barely audible. “Stay close. And don’t do anything stupid.”
Tommy nodded, his jaw tightening. “What about you?”
Evelyn’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve got my own moves to make.”
The room buzzed with tension, alliances shifting like sand in a storm. Vincent’s death had cracked the foundation, and now the family teetered on the edge of collapse. And somewhere, unseen, the gears of Dario’s strategy turned, silent and relentless.
Evelyn’s smile lingered, but her gaze sharpened as she turned to Tommy. “You’ve been quiet,” she said, her tone light but deliberate. “Something on your mind?”
Tommy shifted uneasily, his hands flexing at his sides. “Just thinking,” he muttered, glancing toward Dario, who stood by the window, his posture deceptively relaxed.
“About?” Evelyn pressed, her voice like a blade wrapped in silk.
Tommy hesitated, then shrugged. “About how things change. How they’re supposed to stay the same, but they don’t.”
Dario turned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he caught the edge of Tommy’s words. “Clarify,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of command.
Tommy swallowed, his throat working as he struggled to find the right words. “It’s just… Vincent’s gone. And now it’s like the rules don’t mean what they used to. Everyone’s scrambling, trying to figure out where they stand. But I thought… I thought the rules were supposed to protect us.”
Evelyn’s smile widened, but it was cold, almost predatory. “Rules,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “They’re just words, Tommy. Words written by men who thought they understood the world. But the world changes. And so do the rules.”
Dario’s gaze flicked to Evelyn, his expression unreadable. “You’re suggesting we discard them entirely?”
“Not discard,” Evelyn corrected smoothly. “Adapt. The rules aren’t chains. They’re tools. And tools can be reshaped.”
Tommy’s brow furrowed, his confusion evident. “But if the rules don’t mean what we thought they did, how do we know what’s safe? What’s right?”
Evelyn stepped closer to him, her presence almost suffocating. “You don’t,” she said softly. “That’s the point. You have to decide for yourself. Trust your instincts. Not some outdated code written by dead men.”
Dario’s lips thinned, but he said nothing, his silence more telling than any rebuke. Tommy glanced between them, his unease growing. “But the family…”
“The family isn’t a rulebook,” Evelyn interrupted, her voice sharp now. “It’s a web. And right now, that web is unraveling. You can either cling to the old threads or spin new ones.”
Tommy’s jaw tightened, his loyalty warring with the seed of doubt Evelyn had planted. “And if I’m wrong?”
Evelyn’s smile softened, but there was no warmth in it. “Then you’ll learn. But standing still? That’s the one mistake you can’t recover from.”
Dario finally spoke, his voice low and measured. “Evelyn’s right about one thing,” he said, his gaze locking on Tommy. “The world isn’t static. But neither is it lawless. There’s still order. Just… a different kind.”
Tommy nodded slowly, though his confusion hadn’t entirely cleared. “So what do I do?”
Dario stepped away from the window, his movements deliberate. “You watch. You listen. And when the moment comes, you act. But don’t misread the situation. The stakes are higher than ever.”
Evelyn’s smile returned, though it was tinged with something darker. “And don’t forget,” she added, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “In this world, understanding the rules isn’t enough. You have to know how to bend them.”
Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of her words settling over him like a shroud. He glanced at Dario, seeking reassurance, but found none. Instead, he saw the same calculating intensity he always had, but with a new edge—a recognition that the ground beneath them was shifting.
Evelyn turned away, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she moved toward the door. “Think about it,” she said over her shoulder. “But don’t take too long. The game doesn’t wait for anyone.”
As the door closed behind her, Tommy exhaled sharply, his mind racing. He’d always trusted the rules, relied on them to guide him. But now… now he wasn’t so sure. And that uncertainty, more than anything else, terrified him.
Dario watched him for a moment, then turned back to the window, his expression unreadable. “She’s not wrong,” he said quietly. “But she’s not entirely right, either. The rules still matter. You just have to understand them differently.”
Tommy nodded, though his thoughts were still a tangled mess. “And if I don’t?”
Dario’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “Then you’ll learn the hard way.”
The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut. Tommy stood there, caught between the old world and the new, unsure which way to turn. And in the back of his mind, Evelyn’s voice echoed, a haunting reminder that the rules he’d always relied on might not be enough to save him.
The room was still heavy with the weight of Dario’s words, the silence pressing against the walls like a living thing.
Dominic Moretti stood at the head of the table, his hands resting lightly on the polished wood.
His eyes, sharp and unyielding, swept across the faces of those assembled—Dario, Tommy, Vincent, Anthony, Evelyn.
Each of them wore their own mask, but Dominic knew how to read the cracks.
“Vincent’s indisposed,” Dominic said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that demanded attention. “Until he’s back on his feet, I’ll be acting boss.”
The declaration hung in the air, stark and unapologetic. Dario’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers tapped once against the table, a quiet, deliberate rhythm. Tommy shifted his weight, his gaze darting between Dominic and Dario like he was trying to gauge which way the wind would blow.
Anthony leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. “Acting boss,” he repeated, the words slow and measured. “That’s a big step, Dom. You sure you’re ready for it?”
Dominic’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “I didn’t ask for this, but I’m not going to let the family flounder while Vincent recovers. Someone has to step up.”
“Someone,” Dario said, his tone dry, “or you?”
The room seemed to hold its breath. Dominic’s gaze locked onto Dario’s, the challenge clear. “If you’ve got a better idea, Dario, now’s the time to share it.”
Dario’s lips curved into that faint, humorless smile again. “I’m not the one declaring myself acting boss.”
“No,” Dominic shot back, “you’re the one who’s been running half the family’s operations without Vincent’s say-so. So if we’re talking about overreach, maybe we should start there.”