CHAPTER 15 THE SHOWDOWN MEETING #2
Evelyn's fingers twitched against her thigh—a tell Dario didn't miss. She knew something.
Tommy stepped forward. "Those were counterstrikes. The Albanians hit us first—"
"And who gave you permission to speak?" Dominic cut in, not even looking at him.
The air went taut. Tommy's fists clenched, but Dario flicked a glance his way—stand down.
Vincent exhaled through his nose. "You don't get to decide what warrants retaliation, Dario. That's not how this works."
Dario met his gaze. "Then how does it work, Vincent? We wait for committee approval while they pick us apart?"
A new rule-clue surfaced—Evelyn's sharp inhale. The Morettis didn't know about the ledger. The one Dario had pulled from the second warehouse, the one that tied two of Vincent's captains to the Albanians.
Dominic smirked. "You're not the boss. Remember that."
Dario's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Neither are you."
Vincent stood abruptly. "Enough." He palmed the photos, shoving them back into the envelope. "We settle this at the table. Tomorrow. Everyone present." His gaze locked on Dario. "No more unilateral moves."
Dario inclined his head—just enough to acknowledge, not agree.
As Vincent and Dominic strode out, Anthony lingered. "You're playing a dangerous game, old friend."
Dario didn't answer. The door clicked shut behind Anthony, leaving the weight of the unsaid ledger between them like a live wire.
Tommy finally broke the silence. "They don't know about the—"
"I know what they don't know," Dario said softly. He picked up his glass, swirling the bourbon once before draining it. The ice cubes clinked like bones.
Evelyn pushed off the wall. "You can't sit on that forever."
Dario looked at her. "Watch me."
Outside, a car engine roared to life—Dominic leaving, no doubt to spread the news. The balance had shifted. And Dario had just let them walk out with half the story.
Tommy swallowed hard. "What now?"
Dario set the empty glass down with finality. "Now we see who blinks first."
Dario leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the table.
The room was heavy with tension, the kind that could cut through steel.
Vincent Moretti stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the pale light filtering through the blinds.
Dominic and Anthony were seated across from Dario, their expressions unreadable but their silence speaking volumes.
Evelyn Crane lingered near the door, her arms crossed, her gaze flicking between them like a hawk assessing prey.
"You let them walk," Vincent said finally, his voice low but edged with something dangerous. "You let them walk with half the story. What the hell were you thinking?"
Dario didn’t flinch. "I was thinking about the family," he said evenly. "About protecting what’s ours."
Dominic snorted, leaning forward. "Protecting? You handed Dominic’s men leverage. You think that’s protecting?"
"Yes," Dario shot back, his tone cutting through the room like a blade. "Because if I hadn’t, we’d be dealing with a full-blown war right now. You think Dominic’s crew wouldn’t have retaliated if we’d pushed harder? You think they wouldn’t have come for our assets? For our people?"
Vincent turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. "So you decided to play nice? To let them think they’ve got the upper hand?"
"I decided to buy us time," Dario countered, his voice steady. "Time to regroup. Time to assess. Time to make sure when we move, we move decisively. You want to protect the family? Then you don’t rush into a fight you’re not ready to win."
Anthony shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening. "And what about the money? You just handed over control of the docks. That’s more than an asset, Dario. That’s our lifeline."
"It’s collateral," Dario said, leaning forward now, his gaze locking onto Anthony’s. "And it’s temporary. You think I’d let them keep it? You think I’d let them walk away with something that valuable without a plan to take it back?"
Vincent’s expression darkened. "You better have a damn good plan, Dario. Because if you don’t, this isn’t just about the docks. This is about trust. And right now, you’re testing mine."
Dario met his gaze head-on, unflinching. "My actions were about protecting the family. Every decision I make is about protecting the family. If you don’t trust that, then we’ve got bigger problems than Dominic’s crew."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Evelyn uncrossed her arms, stepping forward.
"He’s right," she said, her voice calm but firm.
"You’re all so focused on what you think he gave up, you’re not seeing what he’s bought us. Time. Information. Leverage. You think Dominic’s going to sit on those docks and do nothing? He’s going to make a move. And when he does, we’ll be ready."
Vincent’s gaze shifted to her, his expression unreadable. "You’re awfully confident in his plan."
"I’m confident in his ability to see three steps ahead," Evelyn replied, her tone unwavering. "Something you should be too."
Dario didn’t look at her, but he could feel her presence like a current in the room, steady and unyielding. Vincent exhaled sharply, turning back to the window. "Fine," he said finally. "But if this blows up in our faces, Dario, it’s on you."
"It always is," Dario said quietly, his gaze dropping to the table. The room began to clear, Dominic and Anthony exchanging low murmurs as they left. Evelyn lingered for a moment, her eyes on Dario, but she said nothing before following them out.
Vincent remained by the window, his back to the room. Dario stood, smoothing his jacket as he moved toward the door. "Vincent," he said, pausing. "You know I’d never jeopardize the family."
Vincent didn’t turn. "I know," he said after a moment. "But sometimes I wonder if you remember who’s in charge."
Dario’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing as he stepped out into the hall. Tommy was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "That went well," he said dryly.
"It went," Dario replied, his tone clipped. "Keep an eye on Dominic’s crew. I want to know the second they make a move."
Tommy nodded, pushing off the wall. "You think they will?"
"I know they will," Dario said, his voice low. "And when they do, we’ll be ready."
Tommy hesitated, then nodded again, falling into step beside him as they walked down the hall. The weight of Vincent’s words lingered in Dario’s mind, but he pushed them aside. There was no room for doubt. Not now. Not when the family’s survival depended on his next move.
The silence stretched too long. Vincent Moretti hadn’t spoken since Dario laid out the situation—no orders, no questions, not even the sharp, assessing look he usually leveled at anyone who brought him problems instead of solutions.
The only sound in the study was the faint hum of the antique clock on the mantel, its brass pendulum swinging with mechanical indifference.
Dario kept his expression neutral, but the weight of that silence pressed against his ribs like a slow-building vise. Prolonged silence from Vincent wasn’t contemplation—it was a verdict waiting to be delivered.
Across the room, Tommy shifted his weight, fingers flexing once at his side. He wasn’t stupid; he knew what this meant. If Vincent stayed quiet much longer, it wouldn’t just be Dario under scrutiny. The whole crew would be answering for the next move.
Dominic leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, watching his brother with the wary stillness of a man who’d seen this play out before.
Anthony, perched on the edge of Vincent’s desk, tapped his knuckles against the wood—once, twice—before catching himself and stopping.
Even Evelyn, usually unshakable, had gone unnaturally still beside the window, her fingers tight around the stem of her wineglass.
The air in the room had thickened, the kind of tension that made the back of Dario’s neck prickle. He’d seen Vincent like this only a handful of times, and never without bloodshed following.
Then, finally, Vincent exhaled, slow and deliberate, and set his glass down on the desk with a soft click.
"Tommy," he said, and the kid stiffened like he’d been called to the gallows. "You were there when this went sideways?"
Tommy’s throat worked before he answered. "Yes, sir."
Vincent’s gaze didn’t waver. "And you didn’t think to mention it until now?"
Dario cut in before Tommy could dig himself deeper. "That’s on me. I told him to hold off until we had the full picture."
Vincent’s attention slid to him, and for the first time since they’d walked in, Dario felt the full force of that stare. Cold. Calculating. "You don’t get to decide what I need to know, Dario."
The words landed like a blade between his ribs. Not a reprimand—a reminder.
Dominic pushed off the bookshelf, voice low. "Vincent—"
"No." Vincent didn’t raise his voice, but the command in it silenced the room all over again. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, and Dario recognized the posture—the one that meant someone wasn’t walking out of this conversation with their position intact.
"You brought me half a problem," Vincent said, "and expected me to clean it up. That’s not how this works."
Evelyn set her glass down with deliberate care. "They were trying to contain it before it reached you."
"And now it’s reached me anyway." Vincent’s fingers steepled in front of him. "With interest."
Dario kept his voice even. "What do you want done?"
Vincent’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "That’s the question, isn’t it?"
The clock ticked. The pendulum swung. And Dario understood, with perfect clarity, that the real damage wasn’t the mess they’d brought him—it was the fact that they’d waited this long to do it.
Tommy’s jaw clenched. Anthony’s fingers stilled against the desk. And in the space between one breath and the next, Dario knew—Vincent wasn’t just deciding their next move.
He was deciding who still had the right to make one at all.