Chapter 8
The master suite of the Bellucci estate was a sanctuary of dark mahogany and rich leather, bathed in the soft, natural light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Leo sat in the center of the massive bed, washed and dressed in clean, warm pajamas. He was happily eating a plate of warm pasta, his bright blue eyes regaining their cheerful spark. Maria stood nearby, watching over him with a gentle, protective smile.
Carmine stood by the doorway, leaning against the heavy oak frame. He had changed his ruined trousers, but still wore his tailored vest and unbuttoned dress shirt. He watched his son eat, the tight, furious knot in his chest slowly beginning to loosen.
"He is doing much better, Mr. Bellucci," Maria said softly, walking over to him. "He ate everything on the first plate."
"Good," Carmine replied, his American accent low and measured. "Stay with him. Lock the door when I leave. Do not open it for anyone but me or Vincent."
"Yes, sir," Maria nodded, her expression turning deadly serious.
Carmine exited the master suite, the heavy door clicking shut behind him. The moment he was alone in the bright, cinematic light of the hallway, his face hardened into a mask of pure, unadulterated stone. He walked down the corridor toward his private study, his polished leather shoes making no sound on the thick carpets.
Vincent, his lead bodyguard, was waiting for him inside the study.
"The perimeter is entirely locked down, Boss," Vincent reported as Carmine walked behind his desk. "We tracked Helena. She walked for two miles before a black SUV picked her up on the main highway."
"A black SUV," Carmine repeated, his cold, intimidating eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you get a plate?"
"Fake tags," Vincent said, pulling a tablet from his dark suit jacket. "But we caught the make and model on the traffic cameras. It’s heavily armored. It’s the same type of vehicle favored by the Rossi syndicate."
Carmine sat down in his leather chair, the artistic tattoos on his hands flexing as he steepled his fingers. The Rossi family had been a thorn in his side for a decade, always probing his borders, always looking for a weakness.
"Helena was meeting with the Rossis," Carmine stated, the puzzle pieces rapidly snapping together in his mind. "They convinced her that my time was over. They promised her a seat at the table if she helped them destabilize the house from the inside."
"She tortured your boy to show the other capos that you couldn't even protect your own son," Vincent concluded, his fair face pale with anger. "It was a power play. A message to the street that you are weak."
"A message," Carmine whispered, his voice dropping into a lethal, vibrating hum. He looked out the window at the bright afternoon sky. "Then it is time... we send a reply."
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"What are your orders, Boss?" Vincent asked, ready for war.
"Call the capos," Carmine commanded smoothly, his eyes devoid of any human mercy. "Tell them to gather at the warehouse district tonight. We are going to remind the city... exactly why the Bellucci name... is feared."
