Chapter 8 - THE LEDGER
Vincent slowly descended the metal stairs, his hands raised in the air. His bespoke suit was ruined with dirt, his eyes hollow but burning with an icy fury.
“Let her go, Carmine,” Vincent said, his voice echoing powerfully through the tunnel. “This is between you and me.”
Carmine kept his pistol aimed at Sofia, but his eyes locked onto Vincent. He smiled.
“Ah, Vincent. The grieving father arrives just in time to watch his empire fall.” Carmine gestured to his enforcers. “Check him.”
One of the men violently patted Vincent down, pulling his phone and tossing it onto the tracks. “He’s clean, Boss.”
“You’re pathetic, Vincent,” Carmine sneered. “You walked in here without a weapon? Without a strike team? You let your emotions rule you. That’s why you were never fit to wear the crown.”
“I didn't bring a weapon because I don't need one to destroy you,” Vincent said, stopping ten feet away.
Carmine laughed. “Is that right? And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
Vincent reached into his inner jacket pocket. Carmine’s men instantly raised their weapons, but Vincent moved slowly.
He pulled out a small, worn leather book.
“Do you know what this is, Carmine?” Vincent asked softly.
Carmine’s smile vanished. The color drained from his face.
“My mother kept a detailed record of every conversation she overheard in the house for the last three years,” Vincent said, holding up the ledger. “You thought she was just a crazy old woman waving her hands. You thought she didn't understand what you and your capos were whispering about in the hallways. But she understood perfectly.”
I watched from the ground, my head spinning, suddenly realizing why Isabella had been so desperate, so observant. Her silence wasn't dementia. It was her disguise.
“She wrote down every bribe,” Vincent continued, his voice echoing with authority. “Every hit you ordered without my permission. Every penny you stole from the Commission. And most importantly, she wrote down how you orchestrated the hit on my wife, and how you murdered David Bennett.”
Carmine swallowed hard. “The Commission won't believe the scribblings of a mute old woman.”
“They will when they cross-reference the bank accounts she listed,” Vincent smiled coldly. “I didn't bring a strike team, Carmine, because I didn't need to. I spent the last twenty minutes on the phone with the heads of the Five Families. I sent them photos of the pages.”
Carmine’s hand began to shake.
“You don't have an army anymore, Carmine,” Vincent whispered. “You are a dead man walking.”
Carmine looked at his two enforcers. The men looked at each other, then slowly lowered their weapons, stepping away from their boss. Loyalty in their world was bought, and Carmine’s currency had just expired.
“Kill him!” Carmine screamed at the men. “I’ll double your pay!”
The enforcers didn't move.
Carmine snarled like a cornered animal. He raised his pistol, aiming squarely at Vincent’s chest. “I’ll kill you myself!”
A gunshot echoed deafeningly through the tunnel.
But it didn't come from Carmine.
Carmine gasped, dropping his weapon. He stumbled backward, clutching his chest, before collapsing onto the concrete floor.
I turned my head.
Standing in the shadows of the tunnel entrance, holding a smoking pistol and leaning heavily against the brick archway, was Marco.
May you like
He was pale, barely conscious, bleeding profusely from his side.
“That was for David,” Marco whispered, before sliding down the wall and passing out.
