Chapter 7 - Midnight at Pier Nineteen
Matteo was waiting.
So was Elena.
Dante walked inside first.
I followed despite everyone telling me not to.
“You weren't invited,” Matteo said.
“Story of my life.”
His mouth almost moved.
Perhaps sarcasm was genetic.
Elena sat in a chair near the center of the warehouse.
Two Bellini men stood behind her.
Dante stopped.
“You wanted me.”
“I wanted justice.”
“No.”
Dante looked around.
“You wanted my father to feel what yours felt.”
“My father died in prison.”
“Mine died in his bed.”
“Exactly.”
Matteo's rage surfaced.
There it was.
Twenty-four years condensed into one expression.
I stepped forward.
“My father wouldn't want this.”
“You never knew him.”
“Neither do you anymore.”
His eyes snapped toward me.
“You knew your brother before grief rewrote him.”
That hurt him.
Good.
“He loved my mother.”
“Yes.”
“He wanted to leave.”
“Yes.”
“Then honor that.”
Matteo shook his head.
“You sound like Dante.”
“No.”
I looked at both men.
“You sound like each other.”
Silence.
Two powerful men.
Two inherited empires.
Two families teaching sons that pain had to be repaid with more pain.
I was suddenly exhausted by all of them.
“Elena,” Matteo said, “tell her.”
Elena lifted her face.
Blood marked her lip.
“I killed Michael Bellini.”
Dante closed his eyes.
I forced myself not to.
“Why?”
“Antonio told me your mother would die next if Michael talked.”
I stared.
“What?”
Elena swallowed.
“He planned to kill both of them.”
Matteo went still.
“You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
“You murdered him.”
“Yes.”
“And saved the woman he loved?”
“Yes.”
My head spun.
“My mother?”
“I sent her money.”
My breath stopped.
“What?”
“Anonymous cashier's checks. Every month for eleven years.”
I remembered Mom's mystery envelopes.
The ones she'd claimed were insurance adjustments.
“You?”
Elena nodded.
“I could not bring Michael back.”
Her voice broke for the first time.
“But I could keep his child fed.”
I cried then.
Not neatly.
Not quietly.
Twenty-four years of lies collapsed at once.
Matteo's face had changed.
“You expect forgiveness?”
“No.”
Elena looked at him.
“I expect nothing.”
Then one of Matteo's men suddenly reached inside his coat.
Dante saw it.
“Down!”
The man fired.
Matteo twisted.
The bullet struck him in the side.
Everything exploded into motion.
Federal agents stormed the warehouse.
The second guard surrendered.
The shooter ran.
Dante tackled me behind a crate.
Another shot cracked.
Then silence.
“Matteo!”
I crawled toward him.
Dante caught me.
“Wait.”
Agents secured the room.
I reached Matteo.
Blood spread across his shirt.
“Pressure,” I shouted.
I wasn't a nurse.
I didn't know enough.
But I knew pressure.
Dante knelt on the other side.
Matteo looked at him.
“Wasn't… my order.”
“I know.”
Dante pressed harder.
“Stay awake.”
Matteo laughed weakly.
“Caruso saving a Bellini.”
“Don't get sentimental.”
Paramedics rushed in.
They took Matteo.
Elena was freed.
The shooter turned out to be Carlo Greco.
Salvatore's son.
He had wanted both families destroyed.
Matteo had unknowingly allowed him into the operation.
By morning, Carlo was in federal custody.
Matteo was in surgery.
Elena was being questioned.
And Dante had voluntarily handed federal investigators decades of Caruso records.
He wasn't arrested immediately.
But there were no promises.
Outside the hospital, dawn broke over Manhattan.
I sat beside Dante.
For once, neither of us knew what came next.
“What happens now?”
I asked.
“I don't know.”
“That's new.”
“Yes.”
“Scared?”
He thought about it.
“Yes.”
I took his hand.
“What about us?”
He looked at our fingers.
“I won't ask you to stay.”
“Good.”
Pain moved across his face.
Then I added:
“I hate being told what to do.”
His eyes lifted.
A tiny smile appeared.
“Noted.”
I leaned against him.
“I also haven't decided to leave.”
Dante closed his eyes.
For a few minutes, we sat quietly.
Then his phone rang.
Luca.
Dante answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He stood.
I stood too.
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
“Matteo survived.”
Relief washed through me.
Then Luca said something else.
Dante froze.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
My stomach dropped.
“Elena?”
I asked.
He shook his head.
“The evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“The original Caruso ledger.”
The only record linking Antonio Caruso to Michael Bellini's murder.
Gone.
And according to building security, the person who had taken it wasn't Carlo.
It was someone Dante trusted completely.
May you like
His own brother.
Daniel.
