38. Chapter Thirty-Eight Dante
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Dante
I flicked the dimmer switch, and the room darkened like a shroud settling over the dead. The Raven’s Nest was Caruso territory, but tonight it was the stage for my play, and I had to nail every act. Unease crawled under my skin, an unwelcome guest at this gathering of wolves. This was a ballsy move. Maybe even a crazy one.
But I had to do something.
My men had killed Bruno, and that hadn’t gone how I had hoped. He wasn’t a capo, but he was well-liked by the rest of the men who worked for Caruso, and they were angry.
They needed someone to pin it on. They would find out it was a Moretti hit sooner or later. They wanted blood. I just needed to find a way to redirect their anger.
I took a deep breath and looked at all the faces around me. There, in the corner, Marco’s silhouette was a fortress against my dread.
“We’re making moves,” I announced, my fingers dancing through the air, outlining invisible networks, alliances yet unformed. The table in front of me was littered with documents, the scent of fresh ink a sharp promise of wealth yet untapped. These papers could change everything, not just for us but for her—Jade. Her name was a prayer on my lips, a silent plea for strength.
Giovanni, with his granite-hard gaze, sat across from me, his doubt a living thing between us. He toyed with his scotch, the glass catching what little light was left. “Why should we trust you, Dante?” His voice was rough, like gravel tossed in a tin can.
He was a bit older than me, toughened by years on the streets and the scars of countless battles. Still, I stayed my ground, leaning forward, elbows on the table, a predator ready to strike.
Marco’s lighter snapped open, its flame a beacon as smoke curled towards the heavens. I leaned in, so close I could taste the skepticism on Giovanni’s breath. “Because the Caruso family is blinded by tradition. We’re offering progress. Real money.” My words were low, the truth in them ringing louder than any bell tower.
The hum of the neon sign outside bled through the walls, a ghostly soundtrack to our clandestine meeting. Here in the half-light, with the future hanging on a razor’s edge, I played my hand, ready to bet it all to shield Jade from the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.
Giovanni leaned back, his chair creaking under the weight of his decision. “But one of our men is dead. And we think you did it.”
I met his accusation head-on, my resolve as unyielding as the city’s concrete foundations. “You think I had your guy taken out?” I asked, the lie rolling off my tongue, smooth as silk. “Come on, Giovanni. If I could do that, don’t you think I’d wipe out all of Caruso’s pawns while I’m at it?”
Marco’s steps punctuated my words. He circled like a hawk, eyes sharp and ready.
The mid-level goons from Caruso’s side were harder to read, their expressions as closed off as a bank vault. But they were here, in their territory, sure, but listening to me.
“Look,” I said, pushing the folder towards them. Its contents spilled slightly, revealing the shimmer of blueprints and numbers that spelled out our future. “We’re not just talking about turf wars or gun running. This”—I paused, letting the gravity of the moment sink in—“this is biotech. Revolutionizing medicine. And getting filthy rich while we’re at it.”
Marco struck a match, lighting another cigarette. The smoke twisted and danced upward.
“Caruso is stuck in the past, but we...” I let the sentence hang, dangling the bait. “We will own the future. With these advancements, we leverage power in ways Caruso can’t even imagine.”
Their eyes flickered to the documents.
“Think about it,” I urged. “Not just what you’ll gain but what you’ll escape. The shadow of Lorenzo Caruso is long, but we’re offering a way out from under it.”
The air was charged now, thick with thoughts of rebellion and the sweet scent of possibility. Marco closed his lighter with a snap–why he always carried a box of matches and a lighter around was beyond me–and the room went dark for a heartbeat before the lights flickered back to life.
“New York City,” I said, sweeping a hand over the map, “is ripe for the taking. And with your help, we’ll pluck it like an apple from a tree.”
Giovanni’s brow furrowed, but his eyes betrayed his interest. “And what’s in it for you, Dante?” The question was pointed, a knife poised at my throat.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I replied, my voice edged with the steel of conviction. “I’m securing my family’s legacy—and offering you a piece of it.”
There was that. That was part of it, certainly. But I couldn’t lie to myself. Most of this was about protecting Jade.
Caruso had me in his crosshairs, which meant he had Jade in his crosshairs. I couldn’t afford for that to happen.
Giovanni eyes darted between the heavy envelope and me, searching for any sign of deceit. His lips parted as if to argue, but nothing came out. The thud of the cash had spoken louder than any reassurance I could offer.
“This is just the beginning,” I repeated, letting the promise settle over them like a mantle. They were street-smart, these men; they knew opportunity dressed in many guises, and tonight she wore the sharp cut of a Moretti suit.
“Come on,” Marco said. “Would we be here if we weren’t serious? Enzo can make this happen all by himself. But you’re here, and we’re both here…”
“He’s right. My dad completely backs us up,” I said, another lie. Our father would be furious if he knew we were here…but only if we failed.
Marco continued, his voice low and steady, weaving a tale of ambition and potential that knitted the room together in the web of our design. “The old ways are dying, boys. Get on board now, or get left behind.”
The words hung in the air like gun smoke, their message clear: adapt or perish. Changing times called for changing alliances, and I could practically see the gears turning in Giovanni’s head as he wrestled with the prospect.
“It’s a dangerous play,” Giovanni said. The rest of the men hadn’t spoken at all. I assumed they were happy for Giovanni to speak for them.
“It’s the only play,” I replied, meeting his stare with equal intensity. “The truth is that the Moretti name has plenty of pull in this city and with the healthcare facilities that are popping up everywhere, transportation and logistics are going to be much easier for us.”
“And what about the cops? You think they’re going to turn a blind eye to all this?” One of the Caruso goons finally spoke up, his words slurred by the cheap whiskey that Marco had graciously provided.
“What are they going to do? Investigate the perfectly legitimate transporting of drugs between clinics?” I countered. “We’re not talking about street level drugs here. We’ll be able to transport anything. Anything. Without scrutiny.”
The goon’s brows furrowed, the gears in his head grinding slowly.
Giovanni spoke up. “They gonna look the other way if they know the Moretti’s are involved?”
“We’ll be operating under the radar,” Marco chimed in, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. “Clean records, clean money. No need for them to ever know our involvement. And I’m serious—the clinics and labs are there to help people. But if we can make extra money on fentanyl, why not?”
Giovanni’s gaze flickered to the cash, now pushed aside, forgotten amidst the grandeur of our vision. “And you have the resources for this? The equipment? The manpower?”
“Everything is already in motion,” Marco said, his voice steady as a ticking clock. “We’ve been preparing for months.”
“And Jade?” Giovanni turned his gaze back to me. His question was a punch straight to the gut. “The skip said you were getting serious with a girl. Is she going to be a problem?”
Jade. My distraction. My dilemma. My obsession.
“Dr. Bentley is not involved. Her research spurred this on, but she isn’t part of this.”
Giovanni’s eyes bored into me, and I could tell he wasn’t just asking about her involvement in our plans. He was digging deeper, prying into my personal matters. It was no secret that Jade had become dearer to me than I’d ever anticipated, and it was unsettling how quickly the Carusos had picked up on it.
“You sure, Moretti?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut through lead. “She’ll never be a problem.”
Giovanni studied me with those cold, calculating eyes of his—long enough for my heart to beat a rapid tattoo against my chest, long enough for sweat to form a thin sheen over my brow.
“Alright,” Giovanni finally said, breaking the tension. “We’re in. But remember this, Dante: if anything goes sideways, if we so much as suspect that you’re playing us...” He let the words hang in the air like a threat, unsaid but understood.
I nodded, acknowledging his warning. It was always the way with the Caruso family; they’d shake your hand with a smile while keeping a knife at your back. As long as everything went according to plan, we’d stay on their good side. But one wrong move...well, I’d seen what happened to those who crossed Giovanni Testa.
And if Caruso found out…I shuddered at the thought, my blood running cold at the mere idea of his wrath. I was playing a dangerous game, but I knew this was the only way. Every move from here on out had to be precise, calculated, flawless.
Marco leaned against the door frame, his hawk-like gaze intense as he watched the men around him, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “We’ll keep our end of the deal,” he assured them, his tone unwavering.
I felt each man’s eyes on me, their scrutiny like a furnace’s heat. But I wore my poker face well; I’d been schooled in deception since childhood. A wrong look or a hesitant word could cost us everything now.
“So long as we all understand each other,” Giovanni said, rising from his seat. He extended a hand towards me, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
“You’re going to make so much money, Giovanni,” I said. “You have no idea.”
As he offered his hand, I reached out, clasping his gnarled fingers in a firm grip. His eyes met mine, two seasoned players acknowledging the high stakes of the game, and I could see the cautionary glimmer behind his hardened gaze. This wasn’t trust – it was a fragile truce built on the promise of wealth and power. But it was a start.
“Let’s hope so, Dante,” Giovanni replied, releasing my hand. “For your sake. And for the sake of your lady doctor.”