CHAPTER 25 THE MIDNIGHT MEETING #3
Evelyn stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension. “He’s right. If this gets out, it’s not merely Vincent who’s in danger. It’s all of us. The family. The organization.” She looked at Dominic, her eyes pleading. “We don’t have a choice.”
Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But this better work.”
Dario moved to Vincent’s side, kneeling to assess the damage.
The mark was unmistakable—a jagged sigil that seemed to pulse faintly, even now.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of salve, one he always carried for emergencies.
He dabbed it onto the mark, watching as the raw edges seemed to soothe slightly.
It wouldn’t erase the sigil, but it might buy them some time.
“Anthony,” Dario said without looking up. “The med kit. Now.”
Anthony muttered something under his breath but turned on his heel and left the room. Dominic stayed by the door, his arms crossed, his gaze locked on Vincent. Evelyn knelt beside Dario, her fingers brushing against Vincent’s wrist.
“What is this?” she asked softly, her voice in a low voice.
“A warning,” Dario said, his tone grim. “Someone’s sending a message. And they’re not being subtle about it.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “Who would dare?”
“That,” Dario said, “is what we need to find out. But first, we make sure no one else sees this.” He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Can you handle Dominic? He’s going to need convincing.”
She nodded, rising to her feet and moving toward Dominic.
Dario focused on Vincent, cleaning the mark as best he could and rearranging his clothes to hide the worst of it.
By the time Anthony returned with the med kit, the scene was already taking shape.
Dario took the kit and began applying bandages to Vincent’s wrists, making it look like a medical intervention rather than a cover-up.
“When he wakes up,” Dario said, addressing the room, “we tell him he collapsed. Nothing more. Understood?”
Dominic nodded reluctantly, his arms still crossed. Anthony looked uneasy but didn’t argue. Evelyn stood by the window, her gaze distant, her mind clearly working through the implications.
Dario finished his work and stood, surveying the scene. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. For now, the mark was hidden, and the story was in place. But he knew this wasn’t over. Someone had targeted Vincent, and they’d done it brazenly. That meant they weren’t afraid of the consequences.
And that, more than anything, made Dario’s skin crawl.
Dario finished securing the bandages around Vincent’s wrists, his hands steady despite the tension thickening the air.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the overhead lights.
Evelyn stood by the window, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the city skyline.
Dominic leaned against the wall, his jaw tight, while Anthony paced near the door, his footsteps echoing sharply.
"He’s not waking up," Dominic said, his voice low but edged with urgency. He stepped closer to the couch where Vincent lay, his face pale and damp with sweat. "Something’s wrong."
Dario straightened, his expression unreadable.
He glanced at Evelyn, who turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his.
She didn’t speak, but the weight of her silence pressed against him.
He knew what she was thinking—what they were all thinking.
This wasn’t just a collapse. This was something deeper, something they couldn’t fix with bandages and lies.
"Check his pulse," Anthony said, stopping mid-pace. His voice cracked, betraying the fear he was trying to mask. Dominic leaned down, pressing two fingers to Vincent’s neck. His face went rigid.
"It’s weak," Dominic said, pulling his hand back as if burned. "Too weak."
Dario stepped forward, his movements deliberate.
He didn’t touch Vincent. Instead, he studied him—the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the pallor of his skin, the faint tremor in his hands.
This wasn’t natural. This wasn’t an accident.
Someone had done this. Someone had acted without his knowledge, without his consent.
"Who was here before us?" Dario asked, his tone calm but cutting.
Dominic shook his head. "No one. Just the guards outside. They said he was fine when they checked on him an hour ago."
Dario’s gaze flicked to Evelyn again. She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but he could see the calculation behind her eyes. She knew something. She always knew something.
"Get the guards in here," Dario said, his voice low but firm. Dominic hesitated for a moment, then nodded and moved toward the door. Anthony stayed where he was, his hands clenched into fists.
Evelyn finally spoke, her voice soft but carrying an edge. "You think this was deliberate?"
Dario didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he said, "We don’t have time for theories. We need answers."
Dominic returned with two guards, their faces tense but unreadable. Dario turned to them, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. "Who else has been in this room?"
The guards exchanged a quick glance before one of them answered. "No one, sir. Just us."
Dario stepped closer, his presence looming. "Think carefully. If you lie to me, you won’t walk out of this room."
The second guard swallowed hard. "There was… someone. A woman. She came by earlier. Said she was from the cleaning service."
Dario’s jaw tightened. "What did she look like?"
"She was… average. Brown hair, plain clothes. She didn’t stay long."
Dario turned to Evelyn, his expression hardening. "You know who this is."
Evelyn didn’t flinch. "I might."
"Tell me."
She hesitated, then said, "There’s a faction that’s been moving against the Morettis. They’ve been quiet, but they’re not idle. If they’ve made their move, it’s because they think they can win."
Dario’s eyes narrowed. "And you didn’t think to warn us?"
"I didn’t know they’d act this quickly," Evelyn replied, her tone cool but defensive. "You’re not the only one with secrets, Dario."
Before Dario could respond, Vincent’s body jerked violently. His eyes flew open, wide and unseeing, and a strangled gasp escaped his lips. Then, just as suddenly, he went still. His chest stopped rising. His hands fell limp at his sides.
Dominic lunged forward, grabbing Vincent’s shoulders. "Vincent! Vincent, wake up!"
But it was too late. Vincent’s head lolled to the side, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Dominic shook him once, twice, then stepped back, his face pale with shock.
"He’s gone," Dominic whispered, his voice breaking.
Dario stood frozen, his hands clenched at his sides. He hadn’t raised a finger, hadn’t given the order, hadn’t even seen it coming. Vincent was dead, and the weight of that failure settled over him like a shroud.
Evelyn moved closer, her expression unreadable. "This changes everything," she said quietly.
Dario didn’t look at her. His mind was already racing, calculating the fallout, the alliances that would shift, the power vacuum that would need to be filled.
Vincent’s death wasn’t just a loss—it was a catalyst.
And Dario knew, with cold certainty, that the game had just become infinitely more dangerous.