MAFIA KINGS (THE BELLACORTE KINGS #1)

PROLOGUE

The rain had started before midnight.

By one in the morning, it had turned Bellacorte's old streets into black ribbons beneath the lamps.

Matteo Vesperi stood alone in the library of the abandoned villa, one hand pressed against the edge of the desk.

Blood stained his shirt.

Not much.

Enough.

He glanced toward the tall windows.

Nothing moved beyond the glass.

Good.

He reached inside his coat and pulled out a small black ledger.

Its leather cover was cracked with age. A brass clasp held it shut.

Matteo stared at it for several seconds before placing it on the desk.

Then he looked at the door.

"You shouldn't have come."

The voice behind him was calm.

Matteo closed his eyes.

"I had to."

Vittorio Malaspina stepped into the library and shut the door.

He looked almost absurdly respectable for a man who had spent thirty years moving through Bellacorte's darkest circles. His silver hair was neatly combed. His charcoal coat was dry. His gloves were spotless.

Matteo gave a bitter laugh.

"You're late."

"I wanted to make sure nobody followed me."

"Did they?"

"No."

Matteo looked at the blood on his sleeve.

Vittorio's eyes dropped to it.

"What happened?"

"Your people happened."

A pause.

"That wasn't my order."

"Perhaps not."

Matteo pushed the ledger toward him.

Vittorio didn't touch it.

"What is that?"

"You know what it is."

"I know what you told me it was."

"And now?"

Vittorio studied him.

"Now I think you're frightened."

Matteo's jaw tightened.

"I'm frightened for my daughter."

That changed something in Vittorio's face.

Only for a moment.

"You should have left her out of this."

"I tried."

"You failed."

"I know."

Thunder rolled over the city.

Matteo opened the ledger.

Several pages had been marked with thin strips of paper.

Names.

Dates.

Payments.

Agreements.

Three family seals appeared throughout the records.

Moretti.

Romano.

De Santis.

And beneath them, again and again, the Vesperi name.

Vittorio finally stepped closer.

"You found the original records."

"I found enough."

"Enough to do what?"

"End this."

Vittorio smiled faintly.

"You still think the truth is enough to change anything."

"It will be when people see it."

"People see what powerful men allow them to see."

Matteo closed the ledger.

"My daughter won't."

Vittorio's smile disappeared.

"Where is she?"

"Safe."

"Where?"

"I'm not telling you."

"You misunderstand me."

"No. I understand you perfectly."

Matteo reached inside his coat again.

This time he removed a small brass key.

He held it between two fingers.

Vittorio's eyes followed it.

"She has the box," Matteo said.

"What box?"

"The one you never knew existed."

For the first time that night, Vittorio looked genuinely angry.

"You were supposed to destroy it."

"I couldn't."

"You promised."

"I promised to protect my daughter."

"You made a choice."

"Yes."

Matteo closed his fist around the key.

"I chose her."

Silence filled the room.

Then the library door shook.

Both men turned.

Someone struck it from the other side.

Once.

Twice.

Vittorio stepped backward.

Matteo reached beneath his jacket.

"How many?"

"I don't know."

"You said nobody followed you."

"They didn't."

Another удар hit the door.

The old lock groaned.

Matteo looked at Vittorio.

"Then they followed me."

The door burst inward.

Three men rushed into the room.

Matteo fired once.

The first man dropped.

Vittorio ducked behind the desk.

Another shot cracked through the library.

Glass shattered.

Matteo grabbed the ledger and ran toward the hidden passage behind the bookcase.

"Go!" he shouted.

Vittorio stared at him.

"Where?"

"Anywhere but here."

"You won't make it."

"I don't need to."

Matteo pressed his palm against the hidden latch.

The bookcase moved.

A narrow passage appeared.

He looked back once.

The ledger was gone from his hand.

Vittorio held it.

Matteo froze.

"You stole it."

"I borrowed it."

"You won't survive what comes next."

Vittorio's expression hardened.

"Neither will you."

Matteo stepped into the passage.

Then stopped.

"Tell the three families something for me."

Vittorio waited.

"If they ever come for my daughter..."

Matteo's eyes burned.

"...they'd better be ready for what she becomes."

He disappeared.

The bookcase swung shut.

Vittorio stood alone in the library.

He opened the ledger.

A loose page slipped from the back and landed at his feet.

He picked it up.

His face changed.

The page carried Matteo's handwriting.

One sentence.

Elara must never know who her father trusted.

Vittorio folded the paper.

Then another sound came from the passage.

A cough.

He turned.

Matteo emerged from the darkness.

Blood covered the front of his shirt now.

He had made it only a few steps.

Vittorio watched him fall against the wall.

"Where is the key?" he asked.

Matteo laughed weakly.

"You'll never find it."

"Where is it?"

"With her."

Vittorio walked closer.

"Elara?"

Matteo said nothing.

"Where is your daughter?"

Matteo lifted his head.

Even dying, his eyes remained clear.

"Far from you."

Vittorio's expression went cold.

Outside, church bells began to ring.

One.

Two.

Three.

Matteo looked toward the window.

Then he whispered the only thing that mattered.

"Keep her away from Bellacorte."

His eyes closed.

Vittorio stood over him.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he looked down at the ledger.

The old alliance between the three families had survived wars, betrayals, and generations of resentment.

But one woman could still destroy it.

A woman who did not yet know what she carried in her blood.

Vittorio closed the ledger.

"Then we will make sure she never comes looking."

He walked out.

Behind him, the library door slowly swung shut.

And somewhere beyond Bellacorte, a twenty-four-year-old woman was sleeping peacefully, unaware that three powerful families had already begun searching for her.