Chapter 8 - The Price of Loyalty
The deluge water continued to rain down in the distance, but on the mezzanine, the air was dead and cold.
Emmett held Moretti pinned over the thirty-foot drop to the ballroom floor. Below, the guests had been swiftly ushered out into the safety of the courtyard by Leo’s men, leaving only the wreckage of broken champagne flutes and soaked linens.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't drop you onto the marble right now, Dominic," Emmett growled, his grip tightening until Moretti’s eyes bulged with terror.
"You... you can't prove anything!" Moretti wheezed, clawing desperately at Emmett's iron fingers. "Sterling set up the tunnel! It was business!"
"You killed Warren Malloy," a quiet, icy voice spoke from the shadows.
Moretti turned his bulging eyes.
Josie walked forward through the puddles of water. Her emerald dress was soaked at the hem, clinging to the sleek matte-black titanium of her prosthetic leg. In her hand, she held Warren’s worn leather notebook, now opened to the final, hidden page that had been glued shut behind the binding.
She ripped the page free and held it before Moretti’s face.
It was a bank deposit slip, dated seven years ago—the exact morning of the boiler explosion.
Signed with Dominic Moretti’s personal syndicate seal, transferring two million dollars into an offshore account registered to Arthur Sterling. At the bottom was a handwritten note in Moretti's own unmistakable script: *Ensure the old man stays in the boiler room when the charges blow.*
Moretti’s face turned gray. "Where... where did you get that?"
"My uncle wasn't just a mechanic, Moretti," Josie said, her voice trembling with righteous fury. "He was a record-keeper. He knew you were coming. He knew Sterling betrayed him. And he died making sure this paper survived to hang you."
Moretti looked from Josie to Emmett, realizing with mounting horror that his empire was crumbling to dust before his eyes.
"Emmett... please," Moretti begged, tears of panic finally breaking through his arrogant facade. "Take the tunnels! Take my territory on the West Side! We can make a deal!"
Emmett leaned in close, his voice a lethal whisper that chilled Moretti to the bone.
"There are no deals for men who kill fathers and cripple daughters," Emmett said.
Emmett pulled Moretti back from the edge—not to spare him, but to hurl him violently to the marble floor at Josie’s feet.
Leo and two federal marshals stepped out of the shadows, their badges gleaming under the restored emergency lights.
"Dominic Moretti," the lead marshal declared, clicking heavy steel cuffs around the mob boss’s wrists. "You are under arrest for domestic terrorism, racketeering, and the first-degree murder of Warren Malloy. You’re going to spend the rest of your natural life in a supermax facility in Colorado."
As the federal agents dragged the screaming, cursing mob boss away, the mezzanine fell into profound, echoing silence.
Arthur Sterling’s offshore accounts had been seized. Moretti’s syndicate had been shattered in a single night. The tunnel was filled with twenty tons of wet concrete.
The seven-year nightmare was finally over.
Emmett turned to look at Josie.
She stood amidst the wreckage, her hair damp, her dress ruined, yet she looked like an avenging angel of justice. Her hazel eyes were wide and shining with tears as the immense weight of seven years of grief, fear, and hiding finally washed away from her shoulders.
Emmett walked over to her. He reached out, his large, warm hands gently wiping the cold water and tears from her cheeks.
"It's over, Josie," he murmured, his voice cracking with pure tenderness. "Warren got his justice. And you... you saved us all."
Josie let out a ragged, sob-choked breath and collapsed against his chest.
May you like
Emmett wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her damp hair, holding her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. And for him, she was.
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