Chapter 5 - The Sit-Down at St. Jude’s
The meeting took place in the basement wine cellar of an abandoned Italian cathedral in downtown Denver—neutral ground that had served the syndicate for fifty years.
The air was damp, smelling of old oak barrels, faint incense, and stale tobacco smoke.
Fourteen heavily armed men lined the stone walls. At the far end of a long wooden table sat Don Antonio Moretti and his younger brother, Leo—two men who had controlled Denver's extortion and union rackets since the nineties.
When the heavy oak doors swung open, Leon walked in first, flanked by Viktor and six of his elite guards.
Right beside him, holding her head high, walked Elena. She wore a striking crimson coat over her black suit, her emerald-cut diamond ring glittering under the dim overhead yellow bulbs.
Antonio Moretti, a fat man with greasy silver hair and gold rings on every finger, sneered as he saw her.
"What is this, Leon?" Antonio barked, spitting onto the stone floor. "We called a meeting of the Commission to discuss the Mancini accounts, and you bring Lorenzo’s pampered little girl? This isn't a high-fashion shopping spree."
"Mind your mouth, Antonio," Leon warned, his voice dropping into a deadly low tone as he pulled out a chair for Elena. "You're speaking to my fiancee."
Leo Moretti let out a loud, mocking laugh. "Fiancee? You put a ring on her to steal Lorenzo’s money, Leon! Everyone knows it! She’s a spoiled adopted mutt who doesn't know the first thing about our business!"
Elena didn't wait for Leon to react. She reached into her leather portfolio, pulled out a thin blue folder, and tossed it casually onto the center of the table.
It slid across the smooth wood, stopping right in front of Antonio.
"Page three, Antonio," Elena said, her voice smooth, calm, and effortlessly commanding.
Antonio frowned, his thick fingers opening the folder. "What the hell is this?"
"That is the full audit of your private offshore account in Zurich," Elena explained, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. "The one you used to hide three million dollars from your own brother last August."
Leo Moretti’s head snapped toward his brother. "What?!"
"It also contains the wire receipts showing you paid two hundred thousand dollars to a federal informant named Miller last month to protect your shipping docks in Seattle," Elena added, her eyes locking onto Antonio’s pale face. "My father was too lazy to check his sub-ledgers. I wasn't. You’ve been betraying the Commission for five years, Antonio."
Antonio’s face went from greasy red to chalk white. His hands began to shake as he looked at the printed banking sheets detailing every single illegal transaction he had made in secret.
"You... you little bitch..." Antonio gasped, reaching toward his waistband.
CRACK.
Before Antonio’s hand could even reach his holster, Leon pulled his custom suppressed pistol and shot Antonio straight through the center of his right hand.
Antonio shrieked in pain, falling backward off his chair, clutching his bloody fingers as blood splattered across the old wine barrels.
Every guard in the room drew their weapons, but Leon’s men were faster, pointing twelve submachine guns directly at Leo Moretti and his remaining henchmen.
Leon stood up slowly, leaning over the table, his gun still smoking in his hand.
"Here is the new rule," Leon announced, his voice echoing off the ancient stone walls like a decree from hell. "Elena Mancini runs the finances of this entire city. Every dollar, every port, every payoff goes through her hands. You will pay her a fifteen percent management fee on all operations starting tonight."
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He looked down at the bleeding, weeping Antonio on the floor, then at the terrified Leo Moretti.
"If anyone raises a voice to her again," Leon whispered, "I won't shoot your hand. I'll shoot your family. Meeting adjourned."
