Chapter 6 - The Package on the Doorstep
The Maybach tore through the midday Chicago traffic with sirens flashing discreetly behind the grille, clearing a path through the gridlock as if parting the Red Sea. They made the trip from downtown to the North Shore estate in record time, the tires screeching slightly as the car drifted through the open iron gates and skidded to a halt in front of the limestone manor.
Leo and two other enforcers were already waiting on the front steps.
Dominic shoved the door open before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop, pulling Sadi behind him as he vaulted up the stone stairs.
"Report," Dominic commanded, his voice like cracking ice.
"Perimeter breach was triggered twelve minutes ago, Boss," Leo said, his face grim as he pointed toward a small, heavy cardboard box resting directly in front of the heavy oak doors, tied with a blood-red ribbon. "The guard tower spotted a courier dropping it and fleeing in a stolen sedan. We ran a thermal sweep; no explosives detected. But there’s a note attached."
Dominic stepped forward, pushing Sadi gently behind his broad shoulders. He knelt down beside the box, pulled a small folding knife from his pocket, and sliced the red ribbon cleanly in half.
He lifted the cardboard flaps.
Inside sat an old, chipped porcelain teacup—white with a delicate blue floral pattern.
Sadi gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Rosa’s teacup.
The exact cup Rosa used every single Tuesday at Booth 4 in Sal’s Diner.
Beneath the teacup lay a handwritten note on cheap, lined paper. Dominic picked it up with two fingers, his gray eyes scanning the jagged ink. He read it aloud, his voice dropping into a terrifying, dead silence:
"A gift from the North End, Dominic. The old lady drinks black tea with lemon every Tuesday afternoon. Next time, she won't be drinking it at all unless your little waitress bride surrenders herself to the Moretti family by midnight tomorrow."
A heavy, suffocating silence descended over the porch.
Sadi stared at the porcelain cup, her knees trembling. They weren't just targeting her anymore; they were going after Rosa. They were going after the fragile, elegant bird-boned woman who had welcomed her into the family with chamomile tea and genuine warmth.
"They want me," Sadi whispered, the terror giving way to a sudden, blazing fury. "They’re using Rosa to flush me out."
Dominic stood up slowly. The cold, unyielding rage radiating from him was palpable—a dark, suffocating storm that made even his hardened enforcers step back. He didn't shout. He didn't curse. His face was carved entirely from black granite.
He turned around, looking down at Sadi with eyes that burned like dying stars.
"They think they can corner a Russo in his own house," Dominic said, his voice a lethal whisper that promised absolute destruction. "They think they can touch my mother."
He reached out, taking her face in his large, scarred hands, his thumbs gently brushing her cheekbones.
"Listen to me very carefully, Sadi," Dominic commanded, locking his gaze onto hers with absolute, unbreakable finality. "You are my wife. You saved my mother’s life, and you belong to this family. Nobody—nobody—takes a Russo from this house."
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"Dominic, it's a trap," she pleaded, tears shimmering in her eyes. "If I go to them—"
"You are not going anywhere," Dominic interrupted, his voice dropping into an ironclad decree. "We are going to give Salvatore Moretti exactly what he’s asking for. Only... it won't be you walking through his doors."
