Chapter 2 - THE MEN IN THE DARK SUITS
The forty guests seated around the banquet table were perfectly still, but the silence wasn't peaceful. It was the terrifying, breathless quiet that follows a match being struck near a powder keg.
Luca Moretti didn't move. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around his ten-year-old daughter.
Slowly, deliberately, his dark eyes shifted from Sophie’s tear-streaked face to the two unfamiliar men sitting near the middle of the table.
They were large men. Early forties. They wore expensive, charcoal-gray suits, but there was a roughness to their posture that didn't belong at a society dinner. Their eyes were cold, assessing the room rather than the food.
"Vanessa," Luca said. His voice was no longer a shout. It had dropped to a quiet, lethal register that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. "Who are they?"
Vanessa’s porcelain face flushed a deep, uncomfortable red. She reached a trembling hand up to her diamond necklace.
"Luca, darling, Sophie is confused," Vanessa blurted out, her voice pitching slightly too high. "Children have such wild imaginations. I merely told her that she might spend a few weeks at an exclusive boarding school in Switzerland. To give her an adventure! Those men are... they are educational consultants."
Luca didn't look at Vanessa. He kept his eyes locked on the two men.
"Educational consultants," Luca repeated softly.
He slowly stood up, keeping one hand resting protectively on Sophie's shoulder.
"Marco."
The name was spoken quietly, but instantly, the tall, heavily scarred man standing by the dining room doors stepped forward. Marco was Luca's second-in-command. He moved with the predatory grace of a man who had survived a hundred wars.
"Boss," Marco said.
"Lock the doors," Luca ordered. "Nobody leaves this room."
Marco nodded once. The heavy mahogany doors clicked shut with a sound like a vault sealing.
A ripple of genuine panic went through the guests. Several people shifted in their seats, looking toward the exits.
"Luca, you are making a scene!" Vanessa cried, stepping toward him. "These are my father's business associates! You are insulting my family!"
Luca finally looked at her.
"If they are educational consultants," Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "they won't mind answering a few questions about my daughter's curriculum."
He walked slowly down the length of the table, past the trembling guests, until he stood directly across from the two men in the charcoal suits.
"What is the name of the school?" Luca asked them.
The two men exchanged a brief, tight glance.
"St. Jude’s Academy," the man on the left answered. His voice was gravelly, carrying a faint East Coast accent. "In Geneva."
Luca nodded slowly. "Geneva. Beautiful city. Tell me, do they offer an equestrian program? My daughter loves horses."
"Yes, Mr. Moretti," the second man answered smoothly. "World-class facilities."
Luca smiled. It was a terrifying smile.
"That's incredible," Luca said softly. "Because St. Jude's Academy is a Catholic boys' school in Boston. It has been closed since 1998."
The color drained from the two men's faces.
In a fraction of a second, the man on the left reached his hand inside his suit jacket.
He didn't even get his fingers on the grip of his weapon.
Marco was already there. With terrifying speed, Marco grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it violently until a sickening crack echoed through the dining room. The man let out a sharp cry of pain, dropping a sleek, black handgun onto the Persian rug.
Before the second man could react, Marco swept his legs out from under him, slamming him face-first onto the polished hardwood floor and driving a knee into his spine.
Screams erupted from the guests. Several women jumped out of their chairs, backing against the walls.
"Sit down!" Marco roared, pulling his own weapon and pointing it at the room.
The guests instantly froze in terror.
Luca didn't flinch. He looked down at the handgun lying on the rug.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa was backing away, her hands covering her mouth, tears of pure panic streaming down her face.
"Educational consultants don't carry suppressed firearms to a dinner party, Vanessa," Luca said softly.
He walked toward her, stepping over the groaning man on the floor.
"Luca, I swear to God, I didn't know!" Vanessa sobbed, pressing her back against the wall. "My father brought them! He said they were security for the wedding!"
Luca didn't look at her father. He looked at Vanessa.
"You told my ten-year-old daughter to say goodbye to her bedroom," Luca whispered, his voice trembling with a father's absolute rage. "You told her those men were taking her away on Sunday."
"I was trying to protect her!" Vanessa screamed, her facade completely shattered. "You don't understand what's happening! The Rossi family is coming for you, Luca! They know about the shipping routes! If Sophie stays in this house, she's going to be killed in the crossfire! I was trying to hide her!"
The dining room went dead silent.
The Rossi family. The Morettis' oldest and most brutal rivals in Chicago.
I looked at Frank. The deaf grandfather was watching the chaos, his eyes wide with fear as he pulled little Sophie tighter against his chest.
"The Rossis," Luca repeated, his jaw clenching. "And where exactly were these men taking my daughter to hide her?"
Vanessa swallowed hard, tears ruining her makeup. "To... to a safehouse. In upstate New York."
Before Luca could ask another question, the man pinned beneath Marco’s knee let out a bitter, blood-choked laugh.
"She's lying to you, Moretti," the man spat against the floorboards.
Luca turned slowly. "Speak."
The man turned his head slightly, glaring up at Vanessa with pure hatred.
"We aren't hiding your kid," the man sneered. "We're a courier crew. We were hired to take the girl to the airstrip on Sunday."
Luca's face turned to stone. "An airstrip? To go where?"
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The man grinned, a cruel, bloody smile.
"To Moscow," the man said. "Vanessa didn't hire us to protect your daughter, Moretti. She sold her to the Bratva."
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