Chapter 3 - The Shadow of the Morettis
Three miles away, inside a dimly lit private cigar lounge above a shuttered meatpacking plant, Salvatore Moretti slammed a heavy crystal tumbler onto the mahogany table, shattering it into a thousand sparkling shards.
Amber scotch pooled across the wood, dripping onto the Persian rug like fresh blood.
"A waitress!" Moretti roared, his face flushed purple with incandescent rage, his thick gold chains rattling against his silk shirt. "A grease-stained, minimum-wage waitress from a third-rate diner in the North End humiliated my entire crew! She took four bullets meant for the old bitch, and now she’s sleeping in Dominic Russo’s bed?!"
Across the table sat Marco Vance, a lean, sharp-eyed enforcer with a jagged scar running from his jawline down into his collar. Marco didn't flinch at the outburst; he calmly blew a ring of grey cigar smoke toward the ceiling.
"She’s not just a waitress anymore, Boss," Marco said smoothly. "Russo married her. Legally. It's airtight. He gave her the ring, he brought her into the estate, and he placed a permanent detail of his most trusted capos around her twenty-four hours a day."
"A marriage of convenience!" Moretti spat, pacing the length of the room like a caged panther. "It’s a shield! He’s trying to legitimize her so if we touch her, the entire Commission treats it as a declaration of war."
"And he’s right," Marco noted coldly. "If we hit her inside the estate, we go to war with every union boss, dock master, and corrupt judge in the tri-state area. Russo would burn our warehouses to ash before the week was out."
Moretti stopped pacing. His eyes narrowed into two venomous slits. He walked over to the dark window overlooking the wet Chicago streets, his knuckles gripping the wooden sill until his skin turned white.
"You don't have to storm the fortress to kill the queen, Marco," Moretti whispered, a wicked, serpentine grin spreading across his scarred face. "Sometimes... you just need to draw her out into the open."
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"Out into the open?" Marco raised an eyebrow. "She won't leave the estate. Russo has her locked down tighter than a federal witness."
"Everyone has a weakness, Marco. Everyone has a ghost they’re running from," Moretti said, turning back to his lieutenant. "Find out who she was before Sal’s Diner. Find her family, her friends, her debts, her past. If she won't step out of the castle willingly... we'll build a fire hot enough to force her out."
