CHAPTER 24 THE COUPS FINAL MOVE #3
Marco’s warning echoed in his mind, but Dario pushed it aside.
Vincent had made his move first, tightening the noose around Dario’s autonomy, questioning his decisions, planting seeds of doubt among the crew.
It wasn’t just a challenge to Dario’s authority; it was a threat to the stability of the entire organization.
And Dario Vitale didn’t wait for threats to escalate. He neutralized them.
The blade in his hand gleamed faintly under the dim light filtering through the window.
He’d chosen it carefully—a thin, precise weapon designed for silence and efficiency.
Vincent wouldn’t see it coming. He’d never expect Dario to act so boldly, so directly.
That was the advantage of being underestimated.
People always assumed the consigliere would play the long game, manipulate from the shadows, but Dario knew when to cut the strings.
He moved forward, his steps silent on the polished floor.
The study door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could see Vincent’s silhouette, broad-shouldered and imposing, seated behind the desk.
Dominic stood nearby, his posture tense, his voice low but urgent.
Anthony lingered in the corner, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Evelyn Crane was absent, but Dario knew she’d be nearby, watching, waiting. She always was.
Dario paused just outside the door, his breathing steady, his focus razor-sharp.
This wasn’t just about Vincent. It was about sending a message—to Dominic, to Anthony, to anyone who thought they could challenge Dario’s authority.
The Moretti family thrived on order, and Dario was the one who maintained it.
If Vincent couldn’t see that, then he was a liability.
And liabilities didn’t survive long in their world.
He adjusted his grip on the blade, the cool metal pressing against his palm.
One step, two steps, and he’d be within striking distance.
He could already picture the moment—the shock in Vincent’s eyes, the swift, precise movement, the silence that would follow.
It would be clean. Efficient. Necessary.
But as he shifted his weight to move, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, firm and unyielding. Marco’s voice was low, barely audible, but the urgency was unmistakable. “Not here. Not now.”
Dario froze, his jaw tightening. He didn’t turn to look at Marco, didn’t need to. He could feel the tension radiating off his lieutenant, the unspoken plea in his grip. Marco was the only one who could stop him, the only one who dared. And that was why Dario trusted him.
“He’s making mistakes,” Dario said, his voice calm, his eyes still fixed on Vincent through the crack in the door. “He’s going to tear the family apart.”
“And killing him here, in front of his sons, will do the same,” Marco countered, his grip tightening. “You’re smarter than this, Dario. Think.”
Dario’s hand twitched, the blade shifting slightly in his grip.
He could still do it. Marco wouldn’t stop him if he decided to act.
But the risk was higher now, the consequences more immediate.
Dominic and Anthony would react, Evelyn would intervene, and the fallout would be catastrophic.
Marco was right—this wasn’t the time or the place.
He exhaled slowly, his grip on the blade loosening.
Marco released his shoulder, stepping back slightly, his expression grim.
Dario slid the blade back into its hidden sheath, his movements deliberate, his mind already recalibrating.
Vincent would live—for now. But the threat remained, and Dario wasn’t one to leave problems unresolved.
He turned away from the door, his gaze meeting Marco’s. “We’ll do it your way,” he said quietly. “But don’t think for a second that this changes anything.”
Marco nodded, his jaw set. “I know.”
Dario walked away, his steps measured, his mind already turning to the next move. Vincent had bought himself some time, but Dario Vitale wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
Dario’s footsteps echoed softly against the polished marble floor of Vincent Moretti’s private study.
The room smelled faintly of cigar smoke and leather, the scent of power lingering in every corner.
Vincent sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled, his expression unreadable.
Dominic and Anthony flanked him, their presence a silent reminder of the family’s hierarchy.
Evelyn Crane stood near the window, her arms crossed, her sharp gaze flicking between Dario and Vincent.
Dario didn’t hesitate. He walked straight to the desk, his movements deliberate, his posture relaxed but purposeful. He stopped just short of the desk, his hands resting lightly at his sides. “Vincent,” he said, his voice calm, almost conversational. “We need to talk.”
Vincent leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing. “About?”
“About the fact that you’ve been undermining me,” Dario replied, his tone steady. “Cutting deals behind my back, questioning my decisions in front of the crew. It’s not sustainable.”
Vincent’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “You think I’m undermining you?”
“I know you are,” Dario said. His gaze didn’t waver. “And it’s going to cost you.”
The room went still. Dominic shifted slightly, his hand brushing the edge of his jacket. Anthony’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. Evelyn’s eyes narrowed, her attention fixed on Dario.
Vincent chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. “You’ve got balls, Dario. I’ll give you that. But you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”
“No,” Dario said, his voice cold now. “You’re forgetting who keeps this family running. Who cleans up your messes. Who makes sure your enemies stay buried. That’s me. And if you keep pushing, you’re going to regret it.”
Vincent’s amusement faded, replaced by a hard, calculating stare. “Are you threatening me?”
Dario didn’t blink. “I’m stating a fact.”
For a moment, no one spoke. The tension in the room was palpable, a coiled spring ready to snap. Then Vincent leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. “You think you can take me on? You think you’re ready for that?”
Dario’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”
Vincent’s eyes flicked to Dominic and Anthony, a silent command passing between them.
Dominic stepped forward, his hand moving toward his waistband.
But before he could draw his weapon, Dario’s hand shot out, a small, sleek blade appearing in his grip as if conjured from thin air.
He pressed the tip of the blade against Vincent’s throat, his movements so quick and precise that no one had time to react.
“Don’t,” Dario said, his voice soft but commanding. His gaze didn’t leave Vincent’s face. “This isn’t about them. This is between you and me.”
Vincent froze, his breath catching as the blade pressed into his skin. Dominic and Anthony hesitated, their hands hovering near their weapons but not daring to move. Evelyn’s eyes widened, her posture tensing as if she might intervene, but she stayed where she was.
Dario leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ve been testing me, Vincent. Pushing me to see how far I’ll go. Well, here’s your answer. I’m done playing games. If you want to keep this family intact, you’ll step back. Let me do my job. Or I’ll do what needs to be done.”
Vincent’s throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes locked on Dario’s. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue, might try to assert his authority. But then he nodded, a small, grudging motion. “Alright,” he said, his voice tight. “You’ve made your point.”
Dario didn’t move immediately. He held the blade in place for a heartbeat longer, letting the weight of the moment sink in.
Then he stepped back, the blade disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
He straightened his jacket, his expression calm once more.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s not have this conversation again.”
Vincent exhaled slowly, his hand rising to touch the faint mark on his throat. Dominic and Anthony exchanged uneasy glances, their hands still hovering near their weapons. Evelyn’s gaze remained on Dario, her expression unreadable.
Dario turned away, his movements unhurried, his posture relaxed.
He walked toward the door, his steps measured, his mind already turning to the next move.
Vincent had been warned, but Dario Vitale wasn’t done.
The balance of power had shifted, and the consequences would ripple through the family like a stone dropped into still water.
Behind him, Vincent’s voice broke the silence. “Dario.”
Dario paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Yes?”
Vincent’s eyes were hard, his expression unreadable. “Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”
Dario’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “I never do.”
Then he walked out, the door closing softly behind him.