Chapter 4 - THE TRAP AT THE PERIMETER
The front courtyard of the Moretti estate was bathed in the red and blue flashing lights of six law enforcement vehicles.
Rain had begun to fall, slicking the cobblestones and turning the heavy iron gates into glistening black bars. Eight uniformed police officers stood near the bumpers of their cruisers, their handguns unholstered, their eyes fixed nervously on the twenty heavily armed Moretti guards standing in a silent, impenetrable line across the front steps.
Standing near the lead cruiser was Detective Richard Vance.
He was a thick-necked man in his late forties, wearing a wet leather trench coat, his face scarred by years of vice work. The back of his right hand bore the unmistakable dark ink of a coiled viper tattoo—the mark of the mercenary crew that worked quietly for Donato Moretti's faction.
Alessandro stepped out onto the marble porch. He wore no coat despite the icy rain, his white dress shirt sticking to his broad chest, his dark eyes sweeping the police line with terrifying indifference.
Behind him, two guards held Olivia Bennett. She had been taken from the basement, her gray apron replaced by a dark wool coat, her wrists still cuffed.
"Alessandro!" Vance yelled over the rain, holding up a white folder inside a clear plastic sleeve. "Hand the woman over! We have an active felony warrant for child abduction and first-degree homicide!"
Alessandro walked down the marble steps, one slow step at a time, until he reached the edge of the fountain, fifteen feet from the detective.
"A homicide warrant, Vance?" Alessandro asked softly. "Who did she murder?"
"Six years ago, she stole a child from the scene of a vehicular accident on Route 9!" Vance shouted, stepping forward, his hand hovering over his glock. "That child was the legal ward of Donato Moretti! She killed the attending triage nurse at St. Jude’s to cover her tracks and fled across state lines! We tracked her digital footprint three days ago when she used her social security number to register for a maid's position in your estate!"
Alessandro turned his head slightly, looking at Detective Vance’s right hand.
The coiled viper tattoo was visible beneath his damp cuff.
"You have a very good memory for six-year-old details, Detective," Alessandro remarked, his voice smooth as oil. "Especially considering that on October 14th, six years ago, you filed an official police report stating that the child in question had been burned to ash inside a Maserati."
Vance’s face twitched slightly, but he didn't break stance. "We were misinformed by the coroner at the scene! New forensic evidence proved the child survived and was taken by this woman!"
"And where is Donato?" Alessandro asked, looking past the police cruisers into the dark treeline beyond the estate gates. "If my cousin claims the child is his... why didn't he come to ask me himself?"
A dark Lincoln Town Car pulled up behind the police cruisers, its tinted windows rolling down halfway.
Inside sat Donato Moretti.
He was forty-five years old, thin, slick, with cold grey eyes and a groomed goatee. He was Alessandro’s first cousin, the man who had taken control of the syndicate's northern shipping docks after the "tragedy" six years ago.
"Alessandro!" Donato called out from the back of the Lincoln, his voice amplified by a small megaphone. "Don't make this a war with the city! The woman is a criminal! Hand her over to Detective Vance, let the courts deal with her, and we can discuss our business at the Commission meeting tomorrow!"
Alessandro let out a short, quiet laugh that didn't reach his eyes.
He turned to Marco. "Bring the children out."
"Boss?" Marco hesitated. "In front of the police?"
"Bring them out," Alessandro commanded.
Ten seconds later, the massive oak doors opened. Marco led ten-year-old Matteo and three-year-old Chloe onto the top step of the porch. The boy was wearing Alessandro’s old leather jacket, which hung loosely over his shoulders, his hand tightly holding Chloe’s small fingers.
Detective Vance’s eyes locked onto the boy. A cold, victorious smile touched the corner of the detective's mouth.
"There he is," Vance sneered, turning to his officers. "Move in and secure the child! Take the woman!"
Four police officers drew their weapons and stepped past the iron gates.
Alessandro didn't draw a gun. He simply raised his right hand, snapping his fingers once.
CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!
From the high stone parapets of the estate, from the second-floor windows, and from behind the marble statues lining the driveway, thirty laser sights illuminated the rain. Red dots pinned themselves to the chest of every police officer in the courtyard. Three heavy red dots centered directly on Detective Vance’s forehead.
The four officers froze mid-step, their faces going pale as paper.
"What the hell is this, Moretti?!" Vance screamed, taking a step back against his car. "This is an official police action! You fire on us, and the Governor will send the National Guard!"
"The National Guard doesn't run Chicago, Vance," Alessandro said, taking three slow steps toward the detective until he was staring down into the man's terrified eyes. "I do."
Alessandro reached out, took the white felony warrant from Vance’s gloved hand, and slowly tore it in half. Then in quarters. Then dropped the scraps into the mud at his feet.
"This boy is not Donato's ward," Alessandro declared, his voice echoing off the stone walls like thunder. "And this woman is not a kidnapper."
He turned his body, facing the police officers, the media news vans that had begun arriving near the outer gates, and his cousin sitting inside the Lincoln.
"Six years ago, my wife was murdered on Route 9," Alessandro announced, his tone ringing with absolute, terrifying clarity. "My son was taken from the wreckage by mercenaries hired by a traitor within my own family. Olivia Bennett did not kidnap my heir. She pulled my son from a burning furnace, saved his life, nursed him back to health, and guarded him for six years with her own blood."
He walked back up the marble steps, stopping beside Olivia.
With his own hands, Alessandro pulled the iron key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy steel handcuffs around Olivia’s wrists.
He grabbed her hand, pulling her up to stand directly beside him at the top of the steps, right in front of his son.
"As of this moment," Alessandro roared to the crowd, his voice carrying over the sound of rain and idling engines, "Olivia Bennett is under the absolute, permanent protection of the Moretti bloodline. Anyone who touches her, anyone who files a warrant against her, and anyone who speaks her name with disrespect... will be treated as an enemy of the Moretti family."
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He turned his eyes onto his cousin Donato in the Lincoln.
"And as for you, Donato," Alessandro added softly, "you have until sunrise to leave this city. Because at 6:00 AM... the hunt begins."
