Chapter 5
Dominic did not sleep.
Chloe knew because she did not sleep either.
At 5:20 the following morning, she found him sitting alone in the estate kitchen.
No guards.
No suit.
No weapons visible.
He wore gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, and the photograph of Silvio Bellandi lay on the marble island before him.
For once, Dominic Rossi did not look like a man who owned half the city.
He looked like the eight-year-old boy in the photograph.
Chloe poured coffee.
She made both cups herself.
Dominic noticed.
Neither mentioned why.
She sat across from him.
“Tell me about Silvio.”
“No.”
“That isn’t going to work anymore.”
Dominic rubbed a hand across his face.
“You nearly died yesterday.”
“So did Anthony.”
“He did die.”
“Which means sitting here pretending this is only about protecting me won’t bring him back.”
Dominic stared at the photograph.
Finally, he spoke.
“Silvio Bellandi was an animal.”
Chloe waited.
“He controlled gambling, unions, construction. But his real business was people. He found desperation and turned it into ownership.”
“Like my father’s debt?”
“Worse.”
Dominic’s voice became flat.
“He would loan a man five thousand dollars. Six months later the man owed fifty. Then Silvio owned his business. His house. Sometimes his daughter.”
Chloe’s stomach tightened.
“My father worked collections.”
“You said he was a runner.”
“He started as one.”
Dominic looked toward the dark windows.
“By the time I was eight, he was collecting.”
“Was he violent?”
Dominic did not answer immediately.
“Yes.”
The admission seemed to cost him something.
“My father wasn’t a good man, Chloe.”
“But you still tried to save him.”
“He was my father.”
Dominic looked at her.
“That was enough when I was eight.”
He tapped the photograph.
“Silvio came because my father stole from him.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
Chloe frowned.
“That would have been a fortune then.”
“It was.”
“What happened to the money?”
“Nobody knew.”
Dominic leaned back.
“Silvio thought my father had hidden it. He beat him for three days.”
Chloe went still.
“You saw that?”
“Some.”
Dominic’s voice remained unnaturally calm.
“That night was the last collection. Silvio came himself. My father wouldn’t tell him where the money was.”
His fingers closed slowly.
“I attacked Silvio.”
Chloe imagined an eight-year-old child throwing himself at a grown criminal.
“He hit me with the revolver.”
Dominic touched his jaw unconsciously.
“When I woke up, my father was gone.”
“And the money?”
“Never found.”
Chloe looked again at the photograph.
“Maybe this is about that.”
“After twenty-five years?”
“People have killed for less.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“You’re learning.”
“I had an excellent teacher.”
The kitchen door opened.
Paulie entered carrying a laptop.
“We found Michael.”
Dominic stood.
“Where?”
“Nowhere good.”
Michael D’Angelo had been found beneath a bridge.
Dead.
His body carried no identification.
But there was another silver wolf coin in his mouth.
Dominic looked at the photographs.
“Bellandi is cleaning up.”
Paulie opened the laptop.
“There’s more. We traced the three trucks. They weren’t just going to that mill.”
A map appeared.
Seven locations.
Warehouses.
Private homes.
A marina.
An old Catholic church.
Chloe leaned closer.
“What connects them?”
“We’re checking.”
She studied the map.
Something bothered her.
Then she saw it.
“Those aren’t destinations.”
Paulie frowned.
“What?”
“They’re transfer points.”
She pointed.
“The mileage.”
She pulled the trucking records closer.
“If these trucks actually stopped at every location, the fuel consumption would be higher.”
Dominic watched her.
“So?”
“So they were driving near them.”
She drew lines between the points.
The routes formed a rough circle around the city.
Paulie stared.
“A perimeter.”
“No.”
Chloe zoomed out.
“Surveillance.”
Dominic understood first.
“They were mapping us.”
Rossi warehouses.
Rossi restaurants.
Rossi residences.
Rossi routes.
Bellandi had spent months learning Dominic’s entire operation.
Perhaps years.
The Varga war had not created the weakness.
It had exposed it.
“Call every captain,” Dominic said. “Nothing moves without authorization. Change every route, every code, every guard rotation.”
Paulie nodded.
“And Chloe?”
Dominic looked at her.
“She stays with me.”
Chloe opened her mouth.
Dominic raised one finger.
“This one isn’t negotiable.”
She considered arguing.
Then decided she could save it for later.
By afternoon, the Rossi organization had gone into silent lockdown.
But Silvio Bellandi moved first.
At 3:12 p.m., federal agents raided two Rossi warehouses.
At 3:19, the health department closed Laura after receiving an anonymous report about contaminated food.
At 3:27, a city inspector condemned a Rossi-owned apartment building because of supposed structural violations.
At 3:41, a union representing Rossi drivers announced an emergency strike.
None of the events was fatal.
Together, they were devastating.
“He’s not attacking with guns,” Chloe said.
She stood in Dominic’s office watching phone lines light up.
“He’s attacking infrastructure.”
Dominic looked almost impressed.
“He knows I can fight soldiers.”
“So he’s giving you accountants.”
“And bureaucrats.”
Paulie entered.
“Gallo wants a meeting.”
“Tell him tomorrow.”
“He says now.”
Dominic looked at Chloe.
“Get your coat.”
Gallo chose neutral territory.
A private dining room in an old hotel.
He arrived with six men.
Dominic brought Paulie, Chloe and four soldiers.
The atmosphere was colder than the weather outside.
Gallo did not sit.
“You have federal agents crawling through the docks.”
“Not my doing.”
“They hit your warehouse and suddenly customs is checking every container with my name on it.”
Dominic removed his coat.
“You think I invited them?”
“I think your house is on fire.”
Gallo looked at Chloe.
“And I think maybe I shouldn’t be standing inside it.”
Chloe stepped forward.
“Your alternative is Bellandi.”
Gallo’s face changed.
So he knew the name.
Dominic noticed.
“You’ve heard from him.”
Gallo said nothing.
“That’s why you demanded the meeting.”
Silence.
Finally, Gallo reached into his coat.
Paulie’s hand moved toward his weapon.
Gallo slowly produced an envelope.
He threw it onto the table.
Inside was a photograph of Gallo’s daughter leaving a university campus.
On the back:
CHOOSE THE OLD BLOOD.
Dominic stared.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Gallo laughed bitterly.
“Because six months ago Bellandi was a ghost story.”
“He’s real.”
“I know that now.”
Gallo poured himself a drink.
“My father used to tell me stories. Silvio Bellandi built half the old families. Rossi. Varga. Mine. Everybody paid tribute.”
“And then?”
“Then the younger men decided they didn’t need kings.”
Gallo looked at Dominic.
“Your uncle Antonio was one of them.”
Dominic froze.
“My uncle died before I was born.”
“That’s what your family told you.”
Chloe felt the room shift.
Gallo continued.
“Antonio Rossi organized the rebellion against Bellandi.”
“Silvio survived.”
“Yes.”
“And Antonio?”
Gallo looked at the drink in his hand.
“Nobody knows.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“You know more than you’re saying.”
“I know enough to be afraid.”
Gallo looked toward Chloe.
“Bellandi doesn’t want territory.”
“What does he want?” she asked.
“Restoration.”
The word landed heavily.
“He thinks the city belongs to him. He thinks every family that rose after his fall is occupying stolen land.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“He can think whatever he wants.”
Gallo shook his head.
“You still don’t understand.”
He leaned forward.
“He doesn’t want your empire, Dominic.”
“He wants you to kneel.”
Dominic smiled.
It contained no warmth.
“Then the old man is going to die disappointed.”
They returned to the estate shortly after midnight.
Sam was asleep.
Chloe checked on him before going downstairs.
Dominic stood in the library.
He had pulled an old wooden box from a cabinet.
Inside were family photographs.
Most showed people Chloe had never seen.
Dominic removed one.
Three young men stood outside a social club.
One was Dominic’s father.
One was identified on the back as Antonio Rossi.
The third man had no name.
Chloe looked closer.
“Dominic.”
He saw it.
The third man wore a silver wolf coin around his neck.
Dominic turned the photograph over.
There was a handwritten date.
Twenty-seven years earlier.
And four words.
ANTONIO KNOWS WHERE IT IS.
Chloe’s heart began beating faster.
“The money.”
Dominic stared at the photograph.
“My father didn’t steal from Bellandi alone.”
The telephone rang.
Dominic answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a recording played.
A man screaming.
Old audio.
Distorted.
But clear enough.
A child’s voice could be heard in the background.
Crying.
Dominic turned white.
Chloe knew before he said anything.
“That’s my father.”
The recording continued.
Then another voice spoke.
Silvio Bellandi.
You should have told me where Antonio put it.
A pause.
Your boy would have kept his father.
The line disconnected.
Dominic remained holding the telephone.
Chloe moved toward him.
He stepped away.
“Don’t.”
“Dominic.”
“I said don’t.”
His voice cracked through the room.
For the first time, Chloe understood.
Silvio was not simply attacking Dominic’s organization.
He was rebuilding Dominic’s childhood around him.
The debt.
The helplessness.
The missing father.
The fear.
Every move was designed to turn the most powerful man in the city back into the bleeding child strangers had stepped over.
But Silvio had made one mistake.
Dominic was no longer alone in the street.
Chloe picked up the photograph.
“Then we find Antonio.”
Dominic looked at her.
“He’s been dead for thirty years.”
“Maybe.”
May you like
She held up Silvio’s photograph.
“So was he.”
