CHAPTER 28 THE POINT OF NO RETURN
Dario’s car screeched to a halt three blocks from the wreckage.
The air smelled like burning rubber and spilled gasoline, sharp enough to sting his throat.
He stepped out, his coat catching the wind as he moved toward the chaos.
Emergency lights flashed red and blue, casting long shadows across the street.
Cops were already cordoning off the area, their radios crackling with static and urgency.
He didn’t need to see the bodies to know Tommy had been here.
“Too late,” Evelyn muttered beside him, her voice tight. She’d been quiet the whole ride, her hands clenched in her lap. Now her eyes scanned the scene, calculating the same thing he was: how much damage Tommy had done before they’d arrived.
Dario didn’t answer. He moved closer, threading through the crowd of bystanders and paramedics.
The motorcade was a mess—two SUVs flipped on their sides, their windows shattered.
A third car was crumpled against a lamppost, its hood steaming.
Marsh’s armored vehicle was the only one still intact, though its doors were open and Marsh himself was nowhere in sight.
Federal agents swarmed the area, their black jackets marked with bold white letters.
One of them was crouched near the curb, examining something on the ground.
A shell casing, Dario guessed. Tommy’s calling card.
“He’s alive,” Evelyn said, nodding toward Marsh.
The senator was standing near an ambulance, his suit torn and blood streaked across his face.
He looked shaken but unharmed, barking orders at the agents around him.
His voice carried across the street, sharp and furious.
“This was an assassination attempt! I want every camera in this city reviewed. I want the bastard who did this in cuffs by morning!”
Dario’s jaw tightened. Marsh’s survival didn’t matter. What mattered was the footage. The feds would have every angle covered—traffic cams, security feeds, even drones. Tommy hadn’t been careful. He’d been reckless, and now he’d left a trail straight back to Dario.
“Where is he?” Evelyn asked, her voice low. She didn’t need to say his name. They both knew who she meant.
Dario pulled out his phone and dialed Tommy’s number. It rang once, twice, then went to voicemail. He tried again. Same result. “Gone,” he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Either he’s dead, or he’s running.”
Evelyn’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “If he’s running, they’ll find him. And if they find him—”
“They’ll find me,” Dario finished. He didn’t need her to spell it out.
Tommy was his man. His responsibility. The feds would connect the dots, and Marsh would make sure the story went public.
Dominic would use it to tighten his grip on the family, painting Dario as a liability.
A loose cannon who couldn’t control his own people.
Evelyn stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “We need to move. Now.”
He nodded, but his eyes stayed on the scene.
One of the agents was holding up a tablet, showing Marsh something on the screen.
Marsh’s face twisted in recognition, and he pointed at the image, barking another order.
Dario didn’t need to see the screen to know what was on it.
Tommy’s face, caught in high definition, leaving no room for doubt.
“Dominic’s already consolidating power,” Evelyn said, her voice urgent. “If Marsh has this footage, he’ll use it to bury you. We can’t stay here.”
Dario turned away from the wreckage, his mind racing through options. There weren’t many. “We’ll need passports,” he said. “Cash. A safe route out of the city.”
“I’ll handle the passports,” Evelyn said. “You get the cash. And Dario—” She grabbed his arm, her grip firm. “Don’t go back to the house. Dominic’s already watching it.”
He met her gaze, the weight of her words settling over him. She was right. Dominic would be waiting, ready to pounce the moment Dario stepped out of line. “Where, then?”
Evelyn hesitated, then pulled a key from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. “The apartment on 12th Street. It’s clean. No one knows about it.”
He nodded, slipping the key into his pocket. “Meet me there in two hours.”
She turned to leave, then paused, glancing back at him. “And Dario—don’t trust anyone. Not even your own people.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The weight of her warning was already heavy in the air between them.
He watched her disappear into the crowd, then turned and walked the other way, his coat billowing behind him.
The city felt different now, colder, sharper.
Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every face a potential enemy.
He didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to.
The alley was narrow, damp, and smelled of rotting garbage.
Dario kept his back to the wall, his coat pulled tight against the chill.
Evelyn stood a few feet away, her silhouette sharp against the flickering streetlight.
She hadn’t moved since they arrived, her gaze fixed on the rusted metal door at the end of the alley.
“You’re sure this is the place?” Dario asked, his voice low.
“Positive,” she said, not looking at him. “But you’re not going to like what’s inside.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Evelyn had a knack for delivering bad news with the kind of calm that made it worse.
She stepped forward, her boots crunching on broken glass, and pressed her palm against the door.
It swung open with a groan, revealing a dimly lit room filled with shadows and the faint hum of machinery.
Dario followed her inside, his hand resting on the grip of his gun. The air was smelling of oil and something metallic, like blood. The room was cluttered with tables and shelves, each one piled with strange devices—crystals, amulets, jars filled with liquid that glowed faintly in the dark.
“This is a workshop,” he said, more to himself than to her.
“not merely any workshop,” Evelyn corrected. She picked up a small, jagged crystal and held it up to the light. “This belongs to Daniel Marsh.”
Dario’s jaw tightened. Marsh was a name he knew well—a black-market dealer with a reputation for dealing in things most people wouldn’t touch. But this… this was different. The objects here weren’t just illegal; they were otherworldly.
“What the hell is he doing with this stuff?” Dario asked, his voice sharper than he intended.
Evelyn turned to him, her expression unreadable. “You’ve been misreading the situation, Dario. This isn’t about drugs or weapons. Marsh is trafficking in artifacts. Things that shouldn’t exist in this world.”
He stared at her, trying to process what she was saying. “And you knew this?”
“I suspected,” she admitted. “But I needed proof. That’s why I brought you here.”
Dario’s thoughts snapped through options. This changed everything. If Marsh was involved in something like this, it wasn’t just a threat to the Moretti family—it was a threat to the balance of power in the city. And Evelyn had known. She’d led him here, knowing he’d react.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, his voice low.
“I’m not playing,” she replied, her tone steady. “I’m trying to survive. And so are you.”
Before he could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the shadows. Dario spun around, his gun drawn, just as a figure stepped into the light. It was Tommy Caruso, his face pale and his shirt stained with blood.
“Dario,” Tommy said, his voice shaky. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What happened?” Dario demanded, stepping toward him.
Tommy glanced at Evelyn, then back at Dario. “Dominic’s been taken. Marsh has him.”
The words hit Dario like a punch to the gut. Dominic Moretti—the head of the family—was in Marsh’s hands. And if Marsh was involved in something this dangerous, Dominic’s life was hanging by a thread.
Evelyn stepped forward, her eyes locked on Dario. “This is bigger than you thought,” she said. “You need to understand that. The rules here aren’t the same.”
Dario clenched his fists, his mind racing. He’d misread the situation, underestimated Marsh, and now Dominic was paying the price. But Evelyn was right—this wasn’t just about territory or money. This was about something far more dangerous.
“We need to move,” he said, his voice tight. “Now.”
Evelyn nodded, her expression grim. “Follow me. And don’t ask questions.”
She turned and walked deeper into the workshop, her footsteps echoing in the dark. Dario hesitated for a moment, then followed her, Tommy close behind. The air grew colder as they moved, the hum of machinery growing louder. And somewhere in the shadows, Dario knew, Marsh was waiting.
The hum of the machinery grew deafening as Dario stepped into the dimly lit warehouse, Evelyn’s silhouette disappearing into the shadows ahead.
Tommy trailed behind him, his footsteps steady but tense.
Dario’s sharp eyes scanned the space, catching the faint glint of steel in the corner—a blade, or maybe a gun.
He didn’t need to see Daniel Marsh to know he was here.
The air prickled with anticipation, heavy with the scent of oil and something sharper, metallic. Blood. It was already in play.
“Stay close,” Dario said, his voice low but carrying. Tommy nodded, his jaw tight, his hand already hovering near the holster at his side. Dario didn’t need to explain the stakes. Marsh wasn’t just a target; he was a liability. And liabilities had a way of escalating when left unchecked.
The first shot rang out before they could take another step. Dario dropped instinctively, his body moving with practiced precision. The bullet ricocheted off the steel beam behind him, sending sparks flying. Tommy crouched beside him, his expression fierce.
“Marsh?” Tommy asked, his voice tight.
“Not yet,” Dario replied, his gaze scanning the shadows. “That wasn’t his style.”
As if on cue, a figure emerged from the darkness—Tommy Caruso, but not the Tommy at Dario’s side. This one moved with a predatory grace, his eyes locked on Dario. The real Tommy tensed, his hand tightening on his weapon.
“What the hell?” Tommy muttered, his voice barely audible over the machinery’s roar.
Dario’s lips thinned. “Dominic’s idea of backup,” he said, his tone clipped. “He sent Tommy to intercept Marsh’s convoy.”