CHAPTER 13 TOMMY MAKES HIS MOVE
Tommy's hands shook as he adjusted the scope.
The warehouse's loading dock gave him a clean line of sight to Dominic Moretti's usual parking spot—three spaces left of the rusted dumpster, predictable as sunrise.
He exhaled, finger resting alongside the trigger guard.
One shot. That's all it would take to erase the smug bastard who kept undermining Dario.
The rifle's stock pressed cold against his cheek. Dominic stepped out of his car, laughing at something his driver said. Tommy's pulse hammered in his ears. He'd practiced this moment a hundred times—
A boot cracked against his ribs. The rifle clattered to the rooftop as Rizzo's men swarmed him.
One wrenched his arms behind his back while another drove a knee into his spine.
"Fuckin' amateur," Paul Rizzo's voice sneered from behind. A meaty hand fisted in Tommy's hair, yanking his head back. "
You really thought you could take a shot at a Moretti in my territory?"
Tommy spat blood on the gravel. "Go to hell."
Rizzo's laugh smelled like cigar smoke. "Dominic's gonna love this." He nodded to his men. "Strip his pockets. I want to know who sent him before we hand him over."
Across the street, Ez Ward froze mid-step behind a delivery van. He watched Rizzo's crew drag Tommy toward a black SUV, then pulled out his phone.
Dario answered on the second ring. "Talk."
"Tommy just got bagged by Rizzo's guys," Ez hissed. "They're taking him to Dominic."
A beat of silence. Then, too calm: "Where?"
"Warehouse district, Pier 12. You got maybe ten minutes before they move him."
Dario hung up.
The SUV's door slammed shut behind Tommy. Rizzo's man patted him down, pulling out his wallet and switchblade. "Caruso, huh? You're one of Vitale's."
Tommy kept his mouth shut.
Dominic was waiting when they shoved Tommy into the back room of a seafood import office. He leaned against a desk piled with invoices, smiling. "Well. This is awkward."
Tommy lunged—or tried to. Rizzo's men caught him by the shoulders, forcing him into a chair. Dominic circled him like a shark. "You know what's funny? I was just telling my father how Dario's losing control of his people." He tapped Tommy's cheek with a folded invoice. "And here you are. Proof."
Across the room, Rizzo lit a cigar. "You want me to soften him up before Anthony gets here?"
Dominic waved him off. "Let's see if Dario comes crawling first." He crouched in front of Tommy. "Bet you thought you were doing him a favor, huh? Removing his... problem."
Tommy bared his teeth. "You're the problem."
Dominic's smile didn't reach his eyes. "And yet you're the one in chains." He straightened, glancing at his watch. "Tick-tock, Dario."
The door burst open.
Dario stepped inside, flanked by two of Vincent's neutral enforcers—a calculated choice. His gaze flicked from Tommy to Dominic. "You called?"
Dominic spread his hands. "Just returning lost property."
Rizzo exhaled a smoke ring. "Kid tried to assassinate your boss's son in my territory. That's a fuckin' problem."
Dario didn't look at him. "Tommy's mine to discipline."
Dominic smirked. "If you can control him."
The room tensed. Dario reached into his coat—Rizzo's men drew guns—and tossed a folded document at Dominic. "Vincent's orders. All disputes go through him tonight."
Dominic unfolded it. His smirk faded.
Dario grabbed Tommy's collar and hauled him up. "We're leaving."
Rizzo blocked the door. "The fuck you are."
Dario's voice dropped to a whisper. "Paul. You really want to explain to Vincent why you're holding my man after his direct order?" He leaned in. "Or why your patrols missed the real hitter still out there?"
Rizzo paled.
Dominic crumpled the paper. "This isn't over."
Dario shoved Tommy toward the door. "It never is."
Outside, Tommy stumbled. "Dario, I—"
"Shut up." Dario didn't slow down. "You just handed Dominic leverage. Now we find out what he does with it."
A block away, Ez fell into step beside them. "They bought the decoy?"
Dario's jaw tightened. "For now."
Tommy tasted blood. "I'm sorry."
Dario didn't answer. The weight of Dominic's next move hung between them, sharp as the knife still in Rizzo's pocket.
Tommy Caruso stood in the dimly lit alley, his breath visible in the cold air, the faint hum of the city a distant backdrop.
Dario Vitale was a few paces ahead, his posture relaxed but his eyes scanning the shadows with precision.
Tommy had always admired that about Dario—the way he moved through the world like he owned it, even when the odds were stacked against him. But tonight, something felt off.
Dominic Moretti’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and deliberate. “You really want to explain to Vincent why you’re holding my man after his direct order?” He took a step closer, his gaze locked on Dario. “Or why your patrols missed the real hitter still out there?”
Paul Rizzo, standing beside Dominic, shifted uncomfortably. Tommy could see the tension in Rizzo’s shoulders, the way his hand twitched toward the knife in his pocket. Rizzo wasn’t a fighter—he was a fixer, a man who thrived in the margins. But tonight, he looked like a man caught in a trap.
Dario didn’t flinch. He tilted his head slightly, his voice calm but edged with steel. “Your man was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Dominic. And if your patrols were doing their job, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Tommy watched the exchange, his pulse quickening.
He’d always understood the rules of this world—loyalty, power, and the unspoken hierarchy that kept everyone in line.
But now, he wasn’t so sure. Dominic’s presence here, his direct challenge to Dario, felt like a shift in the balance.
Tommy had always believed Dario was untouchable, but Dominic’s boldness made him question that certainty.
Ezra Ward appeared at the edge of the alley, his movements silent and deliberate. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was enough to make Tommy’s skin prickle. Ez was Dominic’s man, a shadow who moved through the city like a ghost. Tommy had never trusted him, and tonight was no exception.
Dominic’s gaze flicked to Tommy, and for a moment, Tommy felt like a pawn in a game he didn’t fully understand. “Tommy,” Dominic said, his tone almost conversational, “you’ve always been loyal to Dario. But loyalty can be a dangerous thing when it blinds you to the bigger picture.”
Tommy’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like the way Dominic was looking at him, like he was a piece on a chessboard waiting to be moved. “I know where my loyalties lie,” he said, his voice steady despite the unease creeping up his spine.
Dominic smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you?”
Dario stepped forward, his presence commanding. “Enough, Dominic. This isn’t Tommy’s fight.”
Dominic’s smile widened. “Isn’t it? You’ve been grooming him for years, Dario. Teaching him the ropes, showing him how the game is played. But the game’s changing, and Tommy here needs to understand that.”
Tommy’s thoughts snapped through options, trying to piece together what Dominic was implying. He’d always thought of Dario as invincible, a man who could navigate any threat with ease. But Dominic’s words planted a seed of doubt. Was Dario’s position more precarious than Tommy had realized?
Ezra shifted slightly, his hand brushing against the hilt of a blade tucked into his belt. Tommy noticed the movement, his instincts screaming at him to be ready. This wasn’t just a conversation—it was a prelude to something darker.
Dominic’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Tommy, you’re a smart kid. You’ve got potential. But if you’re going to survive in this world, you need to start thinking for yourself. Dario’s not the only player in this game.”
Tommy glanced at Dario, searching for reassurance, but Dario’s expression was unreadable. That unnerved him more than anything. Dario was always in control, always three steps ahead. But tonight, Tommy wasn’t so sure.
Dominic took a step back, his gaze lingering on Tommy. “Think about it,” he said, his tone final. Then he turned and walked away, Ez falling into step beside him.
Tommy stood frozen, the weight of Dominic’s words settling over him like a heavy fog. He’d always believed in Dario, trusted him implicitly. But now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d misread the rules of this world, that there was more at play than he’d ever understood.
Dario turned to him, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. “Don’t let him get in your head, Tommy. Dominic’s playing a game, and he’s trying to use you as a pawn.”
Tommy nodded, but the doubt lingered. He’d always followed Dario without question, but Dominic’s words had planted a seed of uncertainty. For the first time, Tommy wondered if loyalty was enough to survive in a world where the rules were constantly shifting.
The alley was silent now, the tension still thick in the air. Tommy glanced at Rizzo, who was staring at the ground, his face pale. Whatever was coming, Tommy knew it wasn’t going to be easy. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.
Tommy Caruso leaned against the cracked brick wall of the alley, his breath steady despite the adrenaline humming in his veins.
Dominic Moretti’s usual route was predictable—too predictable, Tommy thought.
The man took the same path every Tuesday, cutting through the industrial district on his way to meet with his brother Vincent.
Tommy had studied the pattern for weeks, waiting for the right moment to make his move. Tonight was the night.
He adjusted the collar of his jacket, the fabric rough against his neck.
The air smelled of oil and rust, the kind of scent that clung to abandoned warehouses and forgotten machinery.
Tommy’s eyes scanned the dimly lit street, searching for any sign of Dominic’s approach. He didn’t have to wait long.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the alley, deliberate and unhurried.
Tommy’s pulse quickened, but he forced himself to stay still, to blend into the shadows.
Dominic appeared moments later, his tall frame silhouetted against the faint glow of a distant streetlamp.