Chapter 8 - THE COST OF TRUTH
The rain stopped just as the sky over Lake Michigan turned from bruised black to a pale, cold lavender.
Dante stood on the broken terrace of his estate, watching the clean-up crews haul away the debris from the blast. Front-end loaders were clearing the shattered glass from the lawn, and carpenters were already boarding up the high windows of the ballroom.
Lucian walked up beside him, holding two steaming paper cups of black coffee from a diner down the road. He handed one to Dante.
"Torrino’s plane took off from O’Hare forty minutes ago," Lucian said quietly. "Private flight to Palermo. His captains surrendered the keys to the rail yards at five this morning. It's over, Dante. We took the entire south and west quadrants without firing another round."
Dante took a sip of the hot coffee, feeling the warmth spread through his tired limbs. "And Marcus?"
"Hospital wing at the detention center. The feds picked him up on an anonymous tip with three kilos of unregistered explosives in his trunk. He’ll get forty years at ADX Florence. He’ll never see daylight again."
Dante nodded slowly. For twenty years, this was how his life had functioned: threats eliminated, territories conquered, enemies driven into the earth. It was a cold, brutal ledger of survival.
Yet, as he looked at the ruin of his mother’s ballroom, the victory tasted like ash.
"Lucian," Dante said.
"Yeah, boss?"
"I don't want this anymore."
Lucian turned his head, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "What are you talking about? You just unified the entire Chicago syndicate under one banner. You hold all the cards."
"Cards in a game that ends in a box under a table," Dante said, looking down at his scarred knuckles. "If a five-year-old child hadn't walked across that room last night, you and I would be in the county morgue right now, tagged as unidentified remains. What did my father build here? A mausoleum disguised as a palace."
"What are you saying, Dante?"
"We start transitioning out," Dante commanded, his voice filled with a new, quiet authority. "Sell the dock leases to the commercial logistics firms. Transition the properties into legitimate commercial trusts. Pay off the remaining debts, settle the crew pensions, and let the younger guys take the legitimate transport contracts. Within two years, the Moretti name is completely out of the shadows."
Lucian stared at him for a long moment, then let out a low whistle. "The captains will think you've lost your nerve."
"Let them think it," Dante smiled faintly. "Then let them remember what happened to Dominic Torrino when he doubted me."
Lucian laughed quietly and took a sip of his coffee. "Fair enough."
"Where are Clara and Sophie?" Dante asked.
"Moved into the Lake Forest house two hours ago. Clara was in tears trying to figure out how to work the high-end espresso machine. Sophie is already chasing squirrels across the back lawn."
May you like
Dante tossed his empty paper cup into a nearby debris bin. "Call the car. I want to see them."
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