Chapter 7 - THE DEBT OF BLOOD
Carlo Bellini stood in the ruins of the Moretti foyer, looking perfectly at ease, as if he were admiring a museum exhibit rather than a warzone.
Behind him, four armed men stepped out of the smoke, their assault rifles raised and pointed directly at us.
Luca stepped cleanly in front of me and Mia, his broad shoulders blocking Carlo’s view of my sister. He raised his handgun, aiming it squarely between Carlo’s eyes.
“You take one more step into my house, Carlo, and I’ll paint this marble with your brains,” Luca said. His voice wasn’t a shout; it was a deadly, quiet promise.
Carlo chuckled, tapping his walking stick against the floor.
“Put the gun down, boy,” Carlo sighed, sounding bored. “If you shoot me, my men will cut you and the girls in half before my body hits the floor. And we both know you’re too smart to die for a maid.”
“She’s not a maid,” Luca spat. “She’s under my protection. And if you touch her, the Moretti family will hunt every single Bellini down to the last cousin.”
“The Moretti family is a dying breed,” Carlo sneered. He glanced down at Vanessa, who was still kneeling on the floor, trembling.
“You disappoint me, Vanessa,” Carlo said softly. “I gave you a simple task. Keep the boss distracted with a pretty face while I took over the shipping ports. Instead, I find you playing savior to the driver’s brats.”
Vanessa looked up at her uncle, her eyes blazing with sudden, desperate defiance.
“They’re innocent!” she screamed. “You already ruined their lives! Let them go!”
Carlo didn’t even blink. He simply raised his walking stick and struck Vanessa across the face.
The heavy silver handle cracked against her cheekbone. Vanessa collapsed to the floor with a cry of pain.
I screamed, instinctively trying to lunge forward to help her, but Luca shoved me back behind him.
Mia was signing frantically, pulling at my dress.
Why did he hit her? Nat, I’m scared!
I grabbed her hands, squeezing them tight. Don’t look at him. Look at me.
Carlo stepped over Vanessa’s body and walked closer to Luca.
“I don’t want a war, Luca,” Carlo said smoothly. “I just want the deaf girl. Hand her over, and my men will walk out of here. You can keep your little empire. You can even keep the older sister as a pet, for all I care.”
“Why?” Luca demanded, keeping his gun steady. “She’s sixteen years old. She doesn’t know anything.”
“She was there,” Carlo’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “Thirteen years ago. She saw my face when I put a bullet in her father’s chest. I didn’t know she was hiding in the bushes until my men swept the area today and found that old police report about a sick child found wandering the woods. She’s a loose end. I don’t leave loose ends.”
“She’s deaf!” I screamed from behind Luca. “She can’t testify! She can’t even hear you!”
Carlo laughed. “But she has eyes, sweetheart. And she has hands that talk. I’m not taking the risk.”
Carlo snapped his fingers. His men cocked their rifles.
“Last chance, Luca,” Carlo said. “Hand over the girl, or die with her.”
Luca didn’t move. He didn’t flinch.
He slowly reached into his left pocket with his free hand. He pulled out an object and tossed it onto the shattered dining table.
It landed with a heavy, metallic clatter.
It was a silver rosary.
Carlo stared at it, his confident smile finally faltering.
“Do you know what that is, Carlo?” Luca asked quietly.
Carlo swallowed hard. “That’s the Archbishop’s rosary.”
“It is,” Luca nodded. “The Archbishop who handles the Commission’s offshore accounts. The Commission that regulates every mafia family in this country. Including yours.”
Luca took a step forward, closing the distance between his gun and Carlo’s chest.
“I didn’t just inherit my father’s territory, Carlo. I inherited his ledgers. If you kill me tonight, an automated email goes out to the Commission with irrefutable proof that you’ve been skimming off their shipping routes for a decade. They won’t just kill you. They will erase the Bellini name from history.”
Carlo’s face turned completely purple. His hands shook as he gripped his walking stick.
“You’re bluffing,” Carlo spat.
Luca smiled. It was a terrifying, feral thing.
“Try me.”
The room held its breath. The four gunmen looked nervously at their boss, waiting for the order to fire.
But Carlo didn’t give it. He stared at the rosary, doing the math in his head, realizing he had walked into a trap he couldn’t shoot his way out of.
“Fine,” Carlo whispered, his voice trembling with rage. “You win tonight, Luca.”
He turned to his men. “Stand down. We’re leaving.”
The men slowly lowered their weapons.
Carlo looked back at me, his eyes filled with pure malice.
“You think you’re safe, little bird?” Carlo sneered. “You think this boy can protect you from the truth?”
He reached into his tailored jacket pocket.
He pulled out a small, velvet box and tossed it at my feet.
“Ask him why his father paid me to kill yours,” Carlo said.
Carlo turned and walked out the door, his men backing away into the smoke.
I stood frozen, staring at the velvet box on the floor.
Luca lowered his gun, his chest heaving. He looked at the box, and for the first time tonight, he looked terrified.
I slowly knelt down. My hands shook as I picked it up.
I flipped the lid open.
Inside, resting on a bed of white silk, was a heavy gold ring, crusted with dried blood.
The Moretti family crest was stamped onto the front.
But it was the inscription carved into the gold band that made the room spin.
Property of the Moretti Family. Worn by the Heir.
I looked up at Luca.
May you like
“This was my father’s ring,” Luca whispered, his face completely pale.
“Then why,” I asked, my voice cracking, “is my father’s blood on it?”
