Chapter 6 - The Counterstrike
By sunrise, the battle at the Romano estate was over.
The bodies had been removed. The broken glass was replaced. The estate grounds were cleaned by Dante’s discreet crews before the morning mist had even burned off the lawn. To the outside world, nothing had happened. But within the syndicate, a declaration of total war had been signed in blood.
In the master bedroom, Dante lay propped up against silk pillows, his shoulder properly stitched and bound by the family surgeon.
Elena sat in the armchair beside his bed, exhaustion pulling at her eyelids. She had refused to leave his side all night, despite Margaret’s repeated offers for her to rest.
"You should sleep," Dante said softly, his voice still raspy.
"I can't sleep while people are trying to kill us," Elena replied, looking down at her hands.
"They won't try again," Dante said. The warmth in his eyes hardened into cold, absolute certainty. "Because today, Julian Moretti ceases to exist."
The door opened, and Carlo stepped in, holding a black leather portfolio. "Boss. We tapped Moretti’s private line. He’s panicked. He knows the hit failed, and he knows Vance—the owner of the Grand Bellavista—is ready to turn state's evidence to protect himself from the FBI."
"Vance is a coward," Dante sneered. "He'll run to the feds before the day is out."
"There's more," Carlo continued, glancing at Elena. "Moretti is hosting an exclusive charity gala tonight at the Metropolitan Museum. The mayor will be there. The governor. Every high-ranking official in the tri-state area. Moretti thinks that by surrounding himself with politicians and press, he is untouchable. He plans to announce his acquisition of Vance’s hotel chain tonight, securing his legal front."
Elena sat up straight. "He's using the public as a human shield."
"Exactly," Dante said, slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the sharp twinge in his wounded shoulder. "He thinks I only operate in the shadows. He thinks I won't strike him while the cameras are flashing."
"Dante, you can't go there and start a massacre," Elena said, stepping toward him, her hands instinctively reaching out to steady him. "You'll ruin everything your family has built. You'll go to prison!"
Dante caught both of her hands in his. "I don't need to fire a single bullet, Elena. Moretti thinks he is a master of leverage. But he forgot that the Grand Bellavista’s maintenance records, inspection reports, and off-the-books bribery ledgers were kept in Vance’s private safe."
Elena’s eyes widened. "And you have them?"
"Carlo retrieved them three hours ago," Dante smirked. "I don't need to kill Julian Moretti with a gun. I am going to destroy his empire, expose his crimes to the entire city, and watch him rot in a federal penitentiary for the rest of his miserable life."
He paused, his thumb gently stroking the back of Elena’s hand.
"But I need a date to the gala," Dante added, his voice dropping into that smooth, intoxicating timber. "Someone who can look Julian Moretti in the eye and show him that the waitress he tried to silence is the one holding the match to his pyre."
Elena looked into Dante’s dark eyes. A week ago, she was an invisible girl serving drinks to the elite, worrying about bus fare and grocery coupons. Now, she was standing at the epicenter of power.
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"Get me a dress," Elena said softly. "A red one."
***
