Chapter 6
"You have ten seconds to give me a name," Vincent said, his American accent flat and devoid of all emotion. He checked his luxury wristwatch, the gold catching the harsh light. "Before I allow Paul to demonstrate why he is my chief interrogator."
Paul, the massive enforcer standing in the shadows, unbuttoned his own jacket. He cracked his knuckles, a sickening, heavy sound that echoed off the concrete walls.
"Vincent, you're paranoid!" Dominic shrieked, struggling frantically against the thick plastic zip-ties binding his wrists to the heavy steel chair. "There is no coup! I acted alone! I was just trying to secure the future of the bloodline!"
"Five seconds," Vincent murmured, completely unmoved by the hysterical pleading.
"If you kill me, my loyalists will retaliate!" Dominic threatened, trying to leverage the men he commanded on the eastern docks. "You'll tear the family apart from the inside!"
"Time is up," Vincent stated. He took a slow step backward and gave Paul a subtle nod.
Paul stepped forward, a heavy pair of leather tactical gloves pulled tight over his enormous hands. He didn't ask questions. He simply delivered a devastating, precision strike to Dominic’s floating ribs.
The loud crack of fracturing bone was immediately followed by an agonizing, breathless scream. Dominic convulsed in the chair, his fair, rosy face turning a deep, mottled purple as he struggled to pull air into his bruised lungs.
"I will ask you one last time," Vincent said, leaning over the gasping man, his deeply masculine presence suffocating the remaining fight out of his cousin. "Who gave you the backing to make a move against my heir?"
"The... the Lupertazzi family," Dominic wheezed, blood dripping from his chin onto his ruined dress shirt. "They approached me six months ago in Chicago."
Vincent’s cold, sharp eyes narrowed. The Lupertazzi syndicate was a massive, brutal organization that had been trying to edge into their territory for a decade. A direct alliance between a senior Moretti capo and the Chicago bosses was catastrophic.
"What were the terms?" Vincent demanded.
"They promised me... the seat at the head of the table," Dominic confessed, tears of pain and terror streaming down his face. "If I could prove your bloodline was weak, the Commission would force a vote of no confidence. They gave me the weapons to arm my loyalists. We were going to strike next month."
"You sold your own family for a title," Vincent whispered, a dark, freezing rage settling into his bones.
"You made us weak, Vincent!" Dominic yelled, coughing violently. "You started running this family like a legitimate corporation! We are soldiers! We are meant to conquer! The Lupertazzis promised to bring back the old ways!"
"The old ways," Vincent mused softly, turning his back on the broken man. He walked over to the table and picked up his tailored suit jacket, slipping it smoothly over his broad shoulders. He adjusted his cuffs with meticulous care.
"Boss," Paul grunted, wiping a speck of blood from his leather glove. "What do we do with him?"
"He has confessed to treason," Vincent said, his voice a low, lethal hum that carried the absolute finality of a judge passing sentence. "The penalty for treason against the Don is death. The penalty for striking the Don's child is something far worse."
Dominic began to thrash wildly, screaming hysterically. "Vincent! No! Please! I have money! I have offshore accounts! I'll give you everything!"
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"Keep him alive for now," Vincent ordered Paul, ignoring the screaming man entirely. "I want every drop of information about the Lupertazzi weapon shipments extracted from him by morning. When he has nothing left to give... dispose of him."
Vincent walked out of the interrogation room. The heavy metal door slammed shut, cutting off Dominic's frantic begging. The truth was out. The internal threat was neutralized, but the grand conspiracy was already in motion. Vincent had to secure his empire before Chicago brought the war to his doorstep.
