Chapter 4 - The Dinner of Shadows
At 9:00 PM, a convoy of four sleek black armored SUVs glided through the rain-drenched streets of South Chicago, stopping before a high-end, exclusive Italian restaurant named Il Nido.
The restaurant had been closed to the public for the night. Standing outside beneath the velvet awning were six armed Moretti enforcers, their hands tucked inside their heavy leather overcoats.
The lead SUV door opened, and Alessandro Duca stepped out into the pouring rain.
He wore a dark charcoal overcoat over his suit, his stance relaxed, his face an unreadable mask of absolute authority. Behind him stepped Mateo, looking visibly pale and sweating profusely despite the cool autumn air, followed by Gabriel and four heavy Duca enforcers.
Moretti’s lead guard bowed his head nervously. "Don Alessandro. Mr. Moretti is expecting you in the private dining room upstairs."
"Lead the way," Alessandro commanded flatly.
They walked up the grand mahogany staircase to the private second-floor dining room.
Sitting at the center of a massive round table covered in white linen was Salvatore Moretti.
At seventy years old, Moretti was a gaunt, skeletal man with sunken eyes, a hooked nose, and a thin silver mustache. He wore a heavy velvet smoking jacket, sipping a glass of deep red Chianti while three heavily armed guards stood behind his chair.
"Alessandro!" Moretti called out in a raspy, gravelly voice, spreading his thin arms wide in a fake gesture of warm welcome. "What a rare surprise! To what do I owe the honor of the Don visiting my humble establishment on a rainy Thursday?"
Alessandro walked smoothly to the opposite side of the table, pulling out a leather chair and sitting down. He motioned for Mateo to sit beside him.
Mateo sat down on the edge of his seat, his legs trembling beneath the table.
"I came to return something you lost, Salvatore," Alessandro said smoothly, waving his hand toward Gabriel.
Gabriel stepped forward, reaching into a heavy black leather bag he carried.
He reached out and slammed Danny’s empty glass vial, along with a stack of bank transfer records, right into the center of the white linen tablecloth, right next to Moretti’s wine glass.
Moretti’s cheerful smile instantly vanished. His cold, sunken eyes shifted from the vial to Alessandro’s face.
"What is this nonsense?" Moretti sneered, attempting to laugh it off. "A empty bottle and some paper?"
"It is potassium cyanide, Salvatore," Alessandro stated, his voice ringing across the silent dining room like a tolling church bell. "Poured into my morning espresso at seven-fifteen this morning by a cook your men bribed."
Moretti’s three enforcers instantly raised their hands toward their shoulder holsters!
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Alessandro warned calmly, taking an antique silver cigar case from his pocket. He selected a cigar, nipped the end, and lit it with a golden lighter, blowing a thin ring of grey smoke toward the ceiling. "My sniper team on the roof across the street currently has red thermal lasers trained on the backs of all three of your heads."
As if on cue, three tiny red laser dots suddenly appeared on the chests of Moretti’s three enforcers through the rain-slicked bay window!
The enforcers froze, their faces draining of color.
Moretti let out a dark, rasping cough, leaning back in his chair. "You always were a clever bastard, Alessandro. Just like your father. So... the cook failed. You found the poison. What now? You shoot me in my own restaurant and start a full-scale war with my family?"
"No," Alessandro answered, taking a slow puff of his cigar. "I don't need to start a war with your family, Salvatore. Because your family isn't the one that betrayed me."
Alessandro slowly turned his head to look at Mateo.
Mateo went completely white. "A-Alessandro... what are you talking about?"
"The Panama shell company, Mateo," Alessandro said softly, his grey eyes burning into his cousin’s soul with heartbreaking disappointment. "Account number 884-Delta. Two hundred thousand dollars transferred to Danny’s offshore account on Tuesday at three o'clock."
Mateo gasped, backing his chair away from the table so hard it overturned onto the floor! "Alessandro, no! I was forced! Moretti threatened my sister! He made me do it!"
"LIAR!" Moretti spat, slamming his thin fist onto the table. "You came to me three months ago, you pathetic little rat! You asked for my money and my guns so you could take Alessandro’s seat!"
Mateo dropped to his knees on the carpet, tears streaming down his face as he reached out toward Alessandro’s shoes. "Alessandro, please! We are blood! Our fathers were brothers! Spare me! I’ll leave the country! You’ll never see me again!"
Alessandro looked down at his cousin with a expression of pure, frozen grief.
"Blood does not give you the right to poison my home, Mateo," Alessandro whispered softly.
He looked up at Gabriel.
"Take Mateo to the harbor," Alessandro ordered, his voice cold and absolute. "Make sure he never sees a sunrise again."
"NO! ALESSANDRO! PLEASE! NOOOO!" Mateo shrieked as Gabriel and two heavy enforcers dragged him kicking and screaming down the stairs!
The heavy doors slammed shut, leaving only Alessandro and Salvatore Moretti in the quiet dining room.
Moretti looked at Alessandro, a cold, mocking smirk touching his thin lips. "So... you killed your own cousin. You're a lonely man now, Don Duca."
Alessandro stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. He walked over to Moretti’s chair, leaning down until his shadow completely engulfed the dying mob boss.
May you like
"I am not lonely, Salvatore," Alessandro whispered softly into Moretti’s ear. "Because as of midnight tonight, your captains have accepted my offer. Your territories are mine. Your docks are mine. And you... have twenty-four hours to leave Chicago forever, or I will let my enforcers finish what your liver started."
Alessandro turned and walked out of the restaurant into the night, leaving the broken old dragon sitting alone in the ruins of his empire.
