Chapter 17
Luca
Midnight.
My phone buzzed. Dante: Giuseppe's convoy just arrived at Queens. Eight men. He's with them.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. Giuseppe thought he was about to claim his prize—Sienna, vulnerable and lightly guarded. Instead, he was walking into a kill box with a dozen of my men surrounding the building.
"Ricci's people?" I asked Marco quietly.
He checked his tablet, monitoring the surveillance feeds. "Three vehicles. Twelve men total. They're parking two blocks north, approaching on foot."
Cautious. Smart. But not smart enough.
"Let them get close. I want to see Ricci's face when he realizes he's been played."
Another buzz. Dante: Giuseppe's at the door. Francesco is with him. About to breach.
I'd given Francesco explicit instructions—get Giuseppe inside the building, then hit the floor. After that, my snipers would handle the rest.
Marco's tablet lit up with the live feed from Queens. I watched as Giuseppe's men approached the safe house, weapons drawn. Francesco hung back slightly, as instructed. The door opened—
Then chaos.
Flashbangs detonated simultaneously. My men poured from concealed positions. Giuseppe's soldiers went down in a coordinated strike—non-lethal shots, precise and professional. We needed Giuseppe alive. For now.
Through the feed, I watched Giuseppe stumble backward, disoriented by the flashbang. Two of my men tackled him, zip-tying his hands before he could draw his weapon. Francesco had dropped flat at the first explosion, playing his role perfectly.
Giuseppe secured. Zero casualties on our side. Six of his men down, two escaped.
"Good," I murmured. One problem solved.
"Boss." Marco's voice was tight. "We've got company."
I pocketed my phone and turned to see Salvatore Ricci emerge from the shadows, flanked by six heavily armed men—half his force, just as Marco had predicted. The clever bastard had split his people for better coverage.
Ricci and I had history—he'd testified against me during my trial, helping send me to prison while he consolidated power. This wasn't just business. This was personal.
"Luca Romano." Ricci's voice carried across the empty warehouse. "I admit, I'm impressed. Most men would have simply handed over the girl and begged for mercy."
"I don't beg," I said, stepping into a shaft of moonlight so he could see me clearly. "And I don't negotiate with dead men."
Ricci laughed, the sound echoing off concrete walls. "Bold words for someone outnumbered two-to-one."
"You think those are the only men I brought?" I smiled coldly. "You really should have done better reconnaissance."
On cue, red laser sights appeared on every one of Ricci's men—targeting dots from the snipers positioned above and around us. Ricci's eyes widened as he registered the dozen points of light painting his soldiers.
"Now," I continued, voice conversational, "here's what's going to happen.
You're going to tell me every detail of your arrangement with Giuseppe Moretti.
Every contact, every planned move, every piece of leverage you think you have.
And then—" I drew my gun, "—I'm going to decide whether you die quickly or slowly. "
Ricci's jaw tightened. "You think killing me solves your problems? I have powerful friends. People who will—"
"Your 'powerful friends' are the reason you're here alone.
" I gestured to his men. "These soldiers are contractors—they'll scatter the moment you're dead.
Your Calabrese connections have already started distancing themselves.
I made sure of that three days ago when I bought out your primary weapon suppliers and convinced your money launderer to relocate to Argentina. "
The color drained from Ricci's face. He hadn't known. Hadn't realized how thoroughly I'd been dismantling his operation while he'd been focused on Giuseppe's elaborate plans.
"You've been playing checkers," I said. "I've been playing chess."
"You smug son of a—" Ricci lunged for his weapon.
The shot rang out before his hand reached his holster. Marco's bullet took him in the shoulder, spinning him around. Ricci hit the ground hard, gasping, blood spreading across his expensive suit.
His men froze, laser sights tracking their every movement.
"Drop your weapons," Marco ordered. "Now."
One by one, they complied. Smart men who recognized a losing position. Within seconds, my soldiers had them disarmed and zip-tied, kneeling in a line against the warehouse wall.
I crouched beside Ricci, who was clutching his bleeding shoulder and glaring at me with pure hatred.
"The arrangement with Giuseppe," I prompted. "Talk."
Through gritted teeth, Ricci spat out the details.
The plan had been simple but effective—destabilize both the Romano and Moretti families by exposing the fake marriage, trigger a war, then sweep in during the chaos to claim territory from both sides.
Giuseppe would get the Moretti empire. Ricci would take Romano holdings. They'd divide the city between them.
"The baby complicated things," Ricci admitted, voice strained. "A legitimate heir to both families. Giuseppe wanted it gone—wanted Sienna gone. That's why he set up the Terminal B meeting."
Ice flooded my veins. "He was going to kill her there."
"Was going to have it look like a Romano hit.
Frame you for murdering your own wife." Ricci managed a bloody smile.
"Turn the Moretti organization and your own soldiers against you.
Who follows a man who murders his pregnant wife?
Your captains would abandon you. The Morettis would hunt you. You'd be finished."
The casual way he discussed murdering Sienna made something dark and primal surge through me. I pressed my gun against his wounded shoulder, making him scream.
"Where's Giuseppe now?" I demanded.
"How the fuck should I know? We kept our operations separate—" Another scream as I applied more pressure. "Queens! He said he was hitting your safe house in Queens!"
"I know. He's already there. Already captured." I stood, looking down at him with contempt. "You really thought you could outmaneuver me? You're not even playing the same game."
I nodded to Marco, who raised his weapon.
"Wait!" Ricci's eyes widened. "We can make a deal. I have resources, connections—"
"I don't make deals with men who threaten my family."
Marco's shot was clean. Professional. Ricci slumped sideways, dead before he hit the ground.
The warehouse went silent except for the ragged breathing of Ricci's captured men. They stared at their dead boss, then at me, understanding their situation perfectly.
"You have two choices," I told them. "Leave the city tonight—leave the state—and never come back. Or join your employer." I gestured to Ricci's corpse. "Decide now."
"We're gone," one of them said immediately. The others nodded frantically.
"Cut them loose," I ordered. "Give them each five thousand cash and a ride to the state line. If I ever see them again, they're dead."
As my men processed the prisoners, my phone buzzed. Dante: Giuseppe wants to negotiate. Says he has information about a bigger threat. Wants to talk to you directly.
Of course he did. Giuseppe Moretti hadn't built his reputation by giving up easily.
But Giuseppe was different from Ricci. He was Sienna's uncle—family, despite his betrayal. And after everything I'd put her through, every choice I'd made for her, this one should be hers.
She deserved to face the man who'd tried to kill her and our child. Deserved to hear his justifications and decide whether he lived or died.
I'd already taken too many choices from her. This one would be hers to make.
"Tell Dante I'm on my way," I said to Marco. "Keep Giuseppe alive until I get there. And contact Angelo—tell Sienna I'm bringing her uncle to her."
Marco hesitated. "Boss, are you sure? She's pregnant, still shaken from Terminal B—"
"She's stronger than either of us give her credit for." I holstered my weapon. "And she deserves to look her uncle in the eye and hear him admit what he tried to do to her. To our child."
"And if she wants him dead?"
"Then I'll pull the trigger myself." I started toward the exit. "But the choice will be hers."
"What about Francesco?" Marco asked.
"Bring him too." My voice was flat. "Sienna should see exactly who betrayed us. Who gave Giuseppe the tools to almost kill her."
Marco nodded grimly. "He's been asking what's going to happen to him."
"He'll find out soon enough."
"Ricci's people?" I asked Marco.
"Being escorted out of state as we speak. The body—"
"Will disappear by morning. Cement. River. You know the drill."
Marco nodded. We'd done this before. Ricci would simply vanish—no body, no evidence, just rumors and speculation while his organization crumbled without leadership.
"What about the Calabrese family?" Marco asked. "They'll want answers about Ricci."
"They'll get a story about him fleeing to Europe with embezzled funds. I've already planted the evidence. By the time they figure out the truth, we'll be too entrenched for them to move against us." I checked my watch. "Let's go and find out Giuseppe’s fate."
Thirty minutes later, Giuseppe Moretti sat zip-tied to a chair in the underground apartment's living room, flanked by two of my soldiers.
His expensive suit was rumpled, his silver hair disheveled, but his eyes still held that calculating gleam—the look of a man who believed he could talk his way out of anything.
Francesco sat in a second chair three feet away, also restrained, his head bowed. He wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. Good. He shouldn't.
Angelo had moved Sienna to the bedroom when my team arrived with the prisoners, giving her time to compose herself. Now I stood outside the bedroom door, hand raised to knock, steeling myself for what came next.
"Sienna," I called softly. "They're here. Are you ready?"