Chapter 9 Luca #2
The door bangs open and I swing my Glock toward the sound, finger tense on the trigger. Two more of Alessandro's men rush in, weapons drawn.
"Stand down," one of them calls. "Perimeter's clear. They're gone."
"And so is the shipment," the other adds, gesturing to where the crates of Berettas once sat. "They took everything."
"Fuck!" This is bad. Not just for business, but for me. I can already hear my brother blaming me. “Who knew we’d be here?”
Victorio's face contorts with pain as he tries to stand up. "Don’t know. But this shit's been happening more and more. Last month, it was a shipment coming in from the docks. Before that, protection money from the clubs in Queens."
I help him to his feet, my mind racing. "Since when?"
"Started small. Just little things going missing. But it's escalated since your father passed."
The surviving guard spits blood onto the warehouse floor. "It's those Russian fuckers. The Morozovas. They're testing us, seeing how much they can get away with now that Don Lorenzo is gone."
"Alessandro should've hit back harder by now," I mutter, helping Victorio toward the door. "Shown strength."
"Your brother's been cautious." Victorio winces. "Says we need proof before we start a war."
Outside, sirens wail in the distance. We need to move.
"Get him to Doc Marino," I tell the soldiers, transferring Victorio's weight. "And clean this place before the cops show."
"What about you?" Victorio asks, his voice strained.
I check my weapon, slide it back into my holster. "I'm going to have a chat with my brother."
“It was nice knowing you,” Victorio calls. He’s joking. Mostly.
As I drive back toward the Dante compound, unease settles in my gut. Was this a robbery or something more? A message. And from whom? Would the Morozovas make such bold moves? Why would Alessandro hold back? Why isn’t he demanding information from Pyotr and Katerina, the so-called ambassadors?
It makes no sense. The brother I knew would've retaliated immediately, made an example of anyone who dared touch Dante business. Instead, he's playing defense.
Something's off. The power vacuum left by my father's death is larger than I realized. And I’ve got a feeling that I've walked into a brewing war.
I storm into the estate. Alessandro's office door is closed, but I don't bother knocking.
“The shipment is gone, as are a few of your men,” I announce, slamming the door behind me.
Alessandro doesn't look up from his desk. "I'm aware."
"Victorio took a bullet. One of your men is dead. And you're sitting here like it's a minor inconvenience. Or are you too scared to go after the motherfuckers who are making you look like a pussy?"
That gets his attention. He raises his gaze to mine. "And where exactly were you when this happened? You weren't supposed to be there tonight."
There it is. The accusation. "What are you implying?" I force him to tell me to my face that he thinks I’m fucking with his business.
Alessandro leans back, studying me with calculated coolness. "Isn't it convenient? You return after years, and suddenly, our operations start falling apart. Shipments go missing. Men get killed."
I snort. “Yeah, right. And how did I manage to take shipments and money while I was in Chicago? Don’t you fucking put this on me when it’s been happening long before I showed up.” I shake my head. While I wouldn’t say I was ever close to my brother, we were family. “You really think I’d do this?”
"I think," he says, rising slowly from his chair, "that you left this family. I think you built your own empire in Chicago. And I think you see an opportunity to get back at the Dante family by trying to take something that isn’t yours."
The accusation slices deep. They act like I betrayed them, when they’re the ones who sacrificed me, wouldn’t stand up for me.
I cross the room in three strides, slamming my palms on his desk. "I didn't ask to leave, just like I didn’t ask to come back. Someone called me home, and now I see why."
"Not me," Alessandro counters. "And not to lead a coup against what's left of our organization."
"I don't want your throne," I spit. "I want to find who killed our father and who's bleeding our family dry."
"Do you?" He circles the desk, bringing us face to face. "Or do you want to prove I'm not fit to lead? Show everyone you should be the heir?"
My control cracks. "I built something from nothing in Chicago because I had to. Because this family—you—cast me out without a backward glance. Am I better at it? From what I see, yes. But I don’t want it and I’m sick of your pretending that my leaving was my choice.”
"You broke our code," Alessandro hisses.
“So did you and Dad. Family first, right? Except when it came to me.” I shake my head. “You and Dad are both pussies, bowing to the Morozova Bratva.”
“Maybe I should bring in Katerina and torture her.”
My fists ball, ready to beat the living shit out of my brother. “You touch her, and I will take what’s yours. What is this really about? Are you really that pathetically insecure that you wanted me gone? Are you disappointed that I’ve done better you than you—”
“Watch yourself, Luca. I’m still the head of this family.”
“Yeah, except I’m not in your family anymore, remember?
I’m Don Luca Dante from Chicago. I deserve respect.
” I let out a derisive laugh. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?
You think my life has been all rainbows and sunshine.
Well, it hasn’t been. You and Father took my life from me.
I lost everything, including the chance to know my own son! "
Alessandro's expression shifts, surprise briefly overtaking the suspicion.
"I have a son," I continue, quieter now. "With Katerina. A boy I've never met because I was exiled without a chance to know she was pregnant.” I look him in the eyes. “Did you know? When you supported Father sending me away, did you know she was pregnant?”
“No.”
“Did father?”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.” But there’s something in his eyes like a lightbulb going off. As if my father’s actions to keep Katerina close now make sense.
“What the fuck do you know, Alessandro?”
His face contorts into fury. “I know you won’t take what’s mine.”
“I don’t want it. What I do want is what you took from me. My family.”
Alessandro studies me, his jaw working. For a moment, I see uncertainty in his eyes.
"Prove it," he finally says. "Prove your loyalty, and perhaps you can earn back what you lost."
"And how exactly am I supposed to prove my loyalty?” I look at him wondering if he’s just fucking with me. "You've already decided I'm guilty."
Alessandro's expression remains impassive. "There’s a mole. A leak in the family. Find whoever's feeding information to the Morozovas and bring them to me."
"And if I do?"
"Then perhaps I'll believe you didn't come back to destroy what's left of our family."
I straighten, measuring my brother. We’re less than a foot apart, but the distance between us feels wider than the seven years I've been gone.
"Fine," I say finally. "I'll find your rat. But I want something in return."
Alessandro raises an eyebrow. "You're hardly in a position to negotiate."
"I want time with my son. No more excuses from Katerina, no more barriers. He deserves to know his father."
Something flickers across Alessandro's face, not quite sympathy, but understanding.
"That's between you and Katerina," he says. "But I won't stand in your way."
It's the closest thing to an olive branch I'm going to get. I nod once and turn to leave.
"Luca." Alessandro's voice stops me at the door. "If you are the leak… if you're working with the Russians… I won't hesitate to put you in the ground myself."
I meet his gaze steadily. "Maybe you have the balls to lead, after all."
Outside his office, I let out a breath, shocked at the shitshow my family has become. It appears that someone close to us is betraying the family. Someone who knows our shipment schedules, our security protocols, our vulnerabilities.
I don’t really blame Alessandro for suspecting me.
Not of initiating this attack on the Dante business, as that started before I came home.
But I can’t help but wonder if whoever sent the note wasn’t trying to save the Dantes but instead was looking to recruit someone with a grudge to bring them down. Or perhaps to replace Alessandro.
Or worse, what if that person is setting me up to take the fall when everything collapses?