Chapter 4 - The Blood Debt
Ten minutes later, the rain was beating down on the hood of my armored black Sedan as I tore through the streets of Manhattan toward the Valenti estate in Long Island.
Matteo’s men had secured the perimeter around Serafina, ensuring Elena and Mia were transported to a fortified De Luca safehouse outside the city. For the first time in five years, my family was safe—and for the first time in five years, I knew exactly who my enemies were.
When I pulled up to the iron gates of the Valenti mansion, the guards at the gate post froze. They had clearly received word that I was supposed to be dead at Serafina.
I didn't stop the car. I slammed the accelerator, ramming the heavy sedan straight through the iron gates, tearing them off their hinges with a deafening metallic screech.
I stepped out of the vehicle in the middle of the grand cobblestone driveway, my black suit soaked with rain, my gun in my hand.
The heavy oak front doors of the mansion swung open. Lorenzo stepped out onto the grand stone porch, flanked by six armed bodyguards and Marco, who stood behind him with his head bowed in shame.
"Dominic..." Lorenzo stammered, his face turning the color of chalk as he stared at me. "You... you survived?"
"You sent seven men to kill my wife and daughter, Lorenzo," I said, my voice carrying over the sound of the falling rain as I walked steadily up the stone steps.
"She’s not your wife!" Lorenzo shrieked, backing up behind his guards. "She’s a De Luca puppet! She brought a bastard child to New York to steal what belongs to us! Old Man Valenti wanted her gone, Dominic! I only fulfilled your father's wishes!"
"My father was a fool," I said, stopping ten feet from him. "And you are a rat."
Lorenzo panicked. "Kill him!" he screamed to his guards. "Kill him now! I am the head of this family!"
Not a single guard raised his weapon.
They looked at me—at the blood on my cuffs, at the cold, absolute authority in my eyes, and at the unmistakable Valenti stare that no title or stolen money could ever replicate. They knew that if they raised their guns, they would die where they stood.
One by one, Lorenzo’s bodyguards slowly lowered their weapons and stepped away, leaving Lorenzo standing completely alone in the rain.
"Marco," I said, looking past my trembling cousin. "Did you tell them about the child?"
Marco stepped forward slowly, his voice shaking. "I told the capos, Don Dominic. I told them about the girl’s eyes. I told them what we did to Lady Elena five years ago."
From the shadows of the estate's grand hallway, four senior capos—men who had served my family for thirty years—stepped out. They looked at Lorenzo with pure disgust.
"You lied to us, Lorenzo," the oldest capo, Uncle Silvio, spat on the ground. "You made us strip a true Valenti woman of her name. You made us honor a traitor."
Lorenzo dropped to his knees on the wet stone, his hands raised in desperate supplication. "Dominic... please! We’re blood! We’re family! I did it for the strength of the syndicate!"
I walked up to him, looking down into his terrified face.
"Family doesn't poison its own, Lorenzo," I whispered.
May you like
I raised my gun.
A single shot echoed across the estate, swallowed instantly by the October storm.
