CHAPTER 26 POWER VACUUM #2
Evelyn’s voice cut through the tension, cool and deliberate. “This isn’t about who’s been doing what. It’s about who can lead us through this without tearing the family apart.”
Dominic turned to her, his expression softening just enough to be noticeable. “Exactly. And I’m not going to let that happen.”
Tommy cleared his throat, his voice tentative but firm. “Dom’s got the experience. If Vincent trusts him to handle things, maybe we should too.”
Anthony snorted. “Vincent didn’t exactly handpick him for this. He’s in no state to make that call.”
“And yet,” Dominic said, his tone hardening, “here we are. I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you how it’s going to be.”
Dario leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You’re declaring yourself acting boss, but you’re forgetting one thing. The family doesn’t answer to you. Not yet.”
Dominic’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Then let’s put it to a vote. Right here, right now. Who’s with me?”
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Evelyn’s gaze flicked to Dario, then back to Dominic. “This isn’t the time for a power struggle. We need unity, not division.”
“Unity,” Dominic said, “starts with leadership. And until Vincent’s back, that’s me.”
Tommy nodded slowly, his loyalty tipping the scales. “I’m with Dom.”
Anthony hesitated, then shrugged. “Fine. But don’t expect me to kiss your ring.”
Dario’s expression remained unreadable, but he didn’t object. For now, at least, he’d let it stand.
Dominic straightened, his shoulders squaring with the weight of his new role. “Good. Then we’re done here. Everyone knows their place.”
As the others filed out of the room, Evelyn lingered, her eyes on Dominic. “This isn’t going to be easy,” she said quietly.
“Nothing worth doing ever is,” he replied, his voice low.
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Just remember, Dom. Power isn’t just about control. It’s about responsibility.”
Dominic watched her go, her words echoing in his mind. Responsibility. It was a word he’d heard before, but now it felt heavier, more tangible. He’d declared himself acting boss, but the real test was just beginning.
And somewhere in the shadows, Dario was already planning his next move.
Dominic stood at the head of the table, his hands braced against the polished wood.
The room was thick with tension, the air heavy like the moments before a storm.
Dario leaned against the far wall, his sharp eyes flicking between the men gathered.
Tommy Caruso hovered near the door, his jaw tight, while Vincent Moretti sat at the table, his expression unreadable.
Evelyn Crane lingered in the corner, her arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a quiet intensity.
Anthony Moretti stepped forward, his boots echoing against the hardwood floor. "Dominic," he said, his voice calm but edged with something dangerous. "You’ve been acting boss for what, a week? And already, you’re making decisions that affect us all."
Dominic straightened, his gaze locking onto Anthony’s. "I’m doing what needs to be done. Someone has to step up."
"Step up?" Anthony’s laugh was sharp, humorless. "You’re stepping on toes, Dominic. You don’t have the authority to make unilateral calls like this."
Dominic’s jaw tightened. "Authority isn’t handed out like candy, Anthony. It’s earned. And right now, I’m the one holding this family together."
Anthony’s eyes narrowed. "Are you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re holding it together with duct tape and wishful thinking. You’re not Vincent. You’re not the boss."
Vincent’s head snapped up at that, his gaze sharpening. "Enough," he said, his voice low but commanding. "This isn’t the time for infighting."
Anthony turned to Vincent, his tone softening but still firm. "With all due respect, Vincent, someone has to say it. Dominic’s decisions are putting us at risk. He’s moving too fast, too recklessly."
Dominic’s hands clenched into fists. "If you have a better plan, Anthony, I’d love to hear it. Or are you just here to criticize?"
Anthony stepped closer, his presence looming. "My plan is simple. We slow down. We think before we act. We don’t let one man’s ego dictate the fate of this family."
Dario pushed off the wall, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Anthony’s right. Dominic, you’re acting like you’ve already got the crown. But the crown isn’t yours to take. Not yet."
Dominic’s eyes flashed with anger. "And what would you have me do, Dario? Sit back and let everything fall apart?"
Dario’s gaze was steady, unflinching. "I’d have you listen. To Vincent. To Anthony. To the men who’ve been in this game longer than you. You’re not the only one who cares about this family."
Evelyn stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "This isn’t about who’s in charge. It’s about survival. If we’re divided, we’re vulnerable. And right now, we can’t afford to be vulnerable."
Dominic looked at her, his anger faltering for a moment. "Then what do you suggest?"
Evelyn met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "I suggest you stop trying to prove yourself and start leading. That means listening. That means compromise."
Anthony crossed his arms, his stance unyielding. "Dominic, you’re not the boss. Not yet. And until you are, you don’t get to act like you’re above the rest of us."
Dominic’s chest rose and fell with the weight of his frustration. "Fine," he said, his voice tight. "But if we’re going to do this, we do it together. No more unilateral decisions. From anyone."
Dario nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Good. Now that we’re all on the same page, let’s get to work."
The room fell silent, the tension still thick but shifting. Dominic’s authority had been challenged, and the balance of power had shifted. For now, they were united. But the cracks were there, waiting to widen. And somewhere in the shadows, Dario was already calculating his next move.
Dario Vitale watched from the shadows of the warehouse’s upper catwalk, the steel grating cold beneath his palms.
Below, the Moretti brothers stood in tense formation—Vincent at the center, Dominic bristling beside him, Anthony hovering like a wary sentinel.
Tommy Caruso lingered near the exit, his fingers twitching near his holster.
The air smelled of gun oil and damp concrete, the overhead lights casting sharp angles across their faces.
Evelyn Crane shifted beside him, her breath barely audible. She didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the scene below, but he caught the way her fingers flexed against the railing. Testing its stability. Calculating.
"You’re not supposed to be here," Dario murmured, too low for anyone else to hear.
Evelyn’s lips curved, just slightly. "Neither are you."
Dominic’s voice rose from below, sharp with frustration. "You’re telling me we just let this slide? After what they pulled?"
Vincent held up a hand, silencing him. "We don’t move until we know who’s backing them. You don’t cut off the tail without knowing where the snake’s head is."
Dario exhaled through his nose. Predictable. Vincent was playing the long game, Dominic wanted blood, and Anthony would follow whichever way the wind blew. Tommy was the wild card—too eager, too volatile.
Evelyn tilted her head. "You could end this now," she said, barely a whisper. "Walk down there and tell them the truth."
Dario didn’t look at her. "The truth isn’t the point. Control is."
Below, Tommy shifted, his jaw tight. "We’re sitting ducks if we wait."
Vincent’s gaze flicked to him, assessing. "You got somewhere better to be, Caruso?"
Tommy stiffened. "No, sir. Just saying."
Evelyn leaned in, her shoulder brushing Dario’s. The contact was deliberate. "He’s going to be a problem," she murmured. "Not today. But soon."
Dario knew that. Tommy was loyal, but loyalty under pressure had a way of twisting. He watched as the younger man’s fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against his thigh—a tell he’d picked up in interrogation rooms. Nervous energy. The kind that led to mistakes.
Dominic stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Vincent. "Every hour we wait, they get stronger."
Vincent’s expression didn’t change. "And every hour we act without intel, we risk walking into a trap."
Dario’s fingers tightened on the railing. The calculus was simple: Dominic would push until Vincent had to rein him in, and Tommy would either hold his position or crack. Evelyn was right—Tommy was the variable.
She turned her head slightly, studying him. "You could stop this."
Dario met her gaze. "I could."
He didn’t move.
The unspoken truth hung between them—he wasn’t here to help. He was observing. Waiting.
Below, the argument escalated, voices overlapping. Tommy’s hand drifted closer to his weapon.
Evelyn’s smile was knife-sharp. "You like watching things burn, don’t you?"
Dario didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Dominic swore, turning on his heel. "Fine. But when this blows up in our faces, don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Vincent’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t stop him.
And Dario Vitale, hidden in the shadows with Evelyn Crane at his side, watched it all unfold.
Tommy Caruso leaned heavily against the doorframe, his face pale but determined.
The bruise along his jawline had darkened to a deep purple, and his left arm was still cradled awkwardly against his chest, but his eyes were sharp, focused.
He’d been out of commission for days, but now he was here, and the room felt his presence like a shift in the air.
Vincent Moretti glanced up from the map spread across the table, his expression unreadable. "You’re supposed to be resting."
"Resting’s done," Tommy said, his voice rough but steady. He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, ignoring the way his body protested the movement. "I’m here to rejoin planning. I’m not sitting this out."
Dominic Moretti, seated at the table beside Vincent, raised an eyebrow. "You sure you’re recovered enough for this? You look like hell."