Chapter 7 - THE STOLEN SEAL
The air in the coat check room felt instantly devoid of oxygen.
Grace stood perfectly still, the cold steel of Chloe’s gun pressing painfully into the base of her skull. The black leather ledger felt impossibly heavy in her hand.
“Drop the book, sweetheart,” Vincent Rossi rumbled. His voice was a gravelly, terrifying sound that seemed to vibrate in Grace’s teeth.
He didn’t release his grip on Arthur’s throat. Grace’s father was gasping, his face flushed purple, his hands weakly clawing at the massive mob boss’s arm.
“Let him go,” Grace whispered, her voice trembling despite her desperate attempt to stay strong. She opened her hand, letting the black ledger drop to the carpeted floor.
Rossi smiled, revealing perfectly capped white teeth. He shoved Arthur away.
Arthur collapsed against the coat racks, coughing violently and clutching his chest.
“Dad!” Grace tried to lunge forward, but Chloe grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her backward, pressing the gun harder against her head.
“Stay still,” Chloe hissed.
Rossi knelt down with surprising grace for a man his size and picked up the black ledger. He flipped it open, scanning the forged signatures.
“Daniel was a pathetic excuse for a man, but he was good at paperwork,” Rossi mused, slipping the book into his jacket pocket. He looked up at Grace. “Where is DeLuca?”
“I don’t know,” Grace lied, locking eyes with her father, begging him silently to stay down.
Rossi sighed. “You’re a terrible liar, Grace. DeLuca is outside. He sent the maid in to do his dirty work because he’s too much of a coward to face me himself.”
“Matteo is ten times the man you are,” Grace snapped.
Chloe laughed harshly, pulling Grace’s hair tighter. “Listen to her. She thinks the big bad mafia boss actually cares about her. You’re just a distraction, Grace. He used you to get to us.”
“Enough,” Rossi barked, annoyed by his daughter’s taunting. He pulled a heavy silver object from his pocket and tossed it onto the coat check counter.
It landed with a heavy thud.
Grace looked at it.
It was a large, intricately carved piece of solid silver. An antique shipping seal.
But it wasn’t the Alden Freight logo. It was a crest. An oak tree flanked by two wolves.
The same crest that had been on the gold pocket watch her father had shown her.
“Do you know what this is, Arthur?” Rossi asked, looking down at the gasping older man.
Arthur wiped blood from his lip and nodded slowly. “It’s the DeLuca family seal.”
Grace’s eyes widened.
“Exactly,” Rossi said, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “Seventy years ago, Matteo’s grandfather used that seal to authorize every legal and illegal shipment out of Chicago. It’s their legacy. Their crown jewel.”
Rossi turned to Grace.
“I didn’t just come here tonight to take over Alden Freight, Grace. I came to destroy Matteo DeLuca. Tomorrow morning, the police are going to find a massive shipment of illegal weapons in Terminal 4. And sitting right on top of those crates will be Matteo’s stolen family seal.”
Grace felt the blood drain from her face.
The entire operation was a frame job. Rossi wasn’t just smuggling; he was planting evidence to send Matteo to federal prison for the rest of his life.
“You can’t do that,” Grace said, her voice shaking. “Matteo didn’t authorize anything.”
“The seal says otherwise,” Rossi sneered. “And since your father is the terminal manager, he’s going to be the star witness. He’s going to testify that Matteo DeLuca forced him to open the terminal.”
“I’ll never say that,” Arthur rasped, struggling to his feet. “I won’t lie for you.”
Rossi’s smile vanished. He pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it directly at Arthur’s chest.
“Yes, you will, Arthur. Or I will shoot your daughter in the head right now, and then I’ll go into the ballroom and find that sweet little granddaughter of yours.”
Grace’s heart stopped. Lily.
“No!” Grace shouted, fighting against Chloe’s grip.
“Stop fighting!” Chloe yelled, raising her weapon to strike Grace across the face.
But before the gun could connect, the main doors of the coat check violently exploded inward.
The heavy wood shattered, sending splinters raining across the room.
Matteo stepped through the wreckage.
He didn’t have a gun in his hand. He didn’t have his guards with him. He walked into the room with his hands casually tucked into his trouser pockets, radiating an aura of such absolute, terrifying dominance that even Rossi took a step back.
“Vincent,” Matteo said smoothly, entirely ignoring the guns pointed at him. “You look terrible. Have you gained weight?”
Rossi’s face turned purple with rage. He aimed his gun at Matteo’s chest.
“You arrogant son of a bitch,” Rossi snarled. “I have your seal. I have your terminal. It’s over, DeLuca.”
Matteo didn’t flinch. He looked at Grace, his dark eyes softening for a fraction of a second, checking to make sure she wasn’t bleeding.
Then he looked at the silver seal resting on the counter.
“You have a seal,” Matteo corrected softly. “But it’s not mine.”
Rossi frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Matteo pulled his right hand out of his pocket.
Resting in his palm was an identical silver seal. The oak tree. The two wolves.
“My grandfather was a paranoid man, Vincent,” Matteo explained calmly. “He had two seals made. One for the family. And a decoy he gave to men he didn’t trust. Men like your father.”
Rossi stared at the seal in Matteo’s hand, realization dawning in his eyes.
“The seal on that counter has a tracker inside it,” Matteo said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “It has been broadcasting your exact location to the FBI for the last three hours.”
Outside the Lakeshore Club, the sudden, deafening wail of dozens of police sirens pierced the night air.
Red and blue lights flooded the frosted glass windows of the lobby.
“You called the feds?” Rossi yelled, panic finally breaking his composure.
“I told you, Vincent,” Matteo said, taking a slow step forward. “I don’t play by your rules.”
Chloe spun around, aiming her gun wildly at Matteo. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot her!”
Matteo’s eyes snapped to Chloe.
“Look down, Chloe,” Matteo ordered.
Chloe blinked, looking down at her own chest.
A tiny, bright red laser dot was resting directly over her heart.
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Matteo hadn’t come alone. His sniper was positioned on the roof across the street, aiming straight through the lobby window.
“Drop the gun,” Matteo said. “Or die.”
