Chapter 25 - The Puppet Master’s Web
The war room in the basement of the Donati fortress was illuminated only by the cold blue light of satellite maps, wiretaps, and terminal monitors.
Vincent stood at the head of the obsidian table, leaning forward on his knuckles. Around him sat his top lieutenants: Dante, Marco, and the heads of the south and west side crews. Every man in the room looked exhausted, their weapons resting within arm's reach on the polished table.
"Six months ago," Vincent’s voice was dangerously quiet, like the calm surface of water above a violent rip current. "Six months ago, Marcus Vance was pulled out of the ice at the mouth of the Calumet River. He had three bullet wounds in his torso. He required forty units of blood, thoracic surgery, and three months in an induced coma."
Vincent slammed his open palm against the table. The sound cracked like a rifle shot, making two younger capos jump.
"A dead man does not hire offshore surgical teams!" Vincent roared, his eyes blazing with fury. "A broke, disgraced degenerate does not pay half a million dollars to black-market doctors! Who paid the invoice, Dante?"
Dante tapped the screen of his tablet, throwing a financial ledger onto the massive wall projector.
"The funds were wired through a shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands called 'Aegis Holdings,'" Dante explained, his brow drenched in sweat. "We followed the routing numbers through four dummy banks in Zurich and Panama. An hour ago, our cyber-unit cracked the final proxy server."
A face appeared on the giant screen.
Elena, who had slipped quietly into the back of the war room wrapped in a black woolen shawl, let out a sharp gasp.
It was not Don Luciano.
The face belonged to a man in his late fifties with immaculate silver hair, sharp aristocratic features, and cold, calculating hazel eyes behind rimless glasses. He was dressed in a three-piece bespoke Italian suit, wearing a platinum signet ring.
"Councilman Thomas Sterling," Vincent whispered, his eyes narrowing into deadly slits. "The head of the Chicago Port Authority. The man who approved all our maritime shipping routes for the last eight years."
"More than that, Boss," Dante added, pulling up a series of property deeds. "Sterling isn't just a dirty politician on our payroll. He’s Don Luciano’s illegitimate half-brother. When you wiped out the Moretti family three years ago, you cut off Sterling’s primary revenue stream. He’s been playing the loyal ally while using our own port infrastructure to funnel arms and men into the city for Luciano."
Elena stepped forward from the shadows, her bandaged hands clasped tightly against her chest. "Why Marcus? If Sterling has money and power, why resurrect a monster like Marcus Vance?"
Vincent turned to look at her, the harsh blue light of the monitors accentuating the sharp angles of his face.
"Because Sterling needed a rabid dog," Vincent answered grimly. "Sterling is a politician; he understands numbers, treaties, and leverage. Luciano understands old-world mafia tradition. But neither of them knew how to break *you*, Elena. Marcus Vance was brought back for one reason only: psychological warfare. To distract me. To make me make mistakes. To drive me into a blind rage where I leave my throat unguarded."
"And it worked," Elena said, her voice shaking with bitter realization. "You left the manor to save me at Pier 4. You brought your best men to the catacombs. You left Lily..."
"Lily is protected by thirty men with automatic weapons," Vincent cut her off firmly, walking over to her and taking her wrapped hands into his own. "Do not blame yourself. This was a war planned long before you walked into my estate, Elena. But they made one fatal calculation."
"What?" she whispered.
Vincent looked directly into her eyes, his thumb gently stroking the edge of her gauze. "They believed that my love for you would make me weak. They thought it would turn me into a desperate, careless man."
A cold, terrifying smile curved Vincent’s lips—a smile that promised rivers of blood and cities reduced to ash.
"They forgot that a man fighting to protect the woman he loves is not careless," Vincent murmured. "He is merciless."
Dante cleared his throat, breaking the heavy tension. "Boss, we intercepted a coded radio transmission from a warehouse in the old naval shipyard near Calumet Harbor. It matches Marcus Vance’s medical frequency. Sterling is moving him out of the city by boat in four hours."
Vincent didn't hesitate. "Mobilize the strike team. Heavy body armor. Suppressed weapons. No prisoners."
"Vincent, wait," Elena pleaded, gripping his sleeve. "The formula... Dr. Morales is still synthesizing it. What if it fails? What if the notebook Marcus had contained details he remembers? You need him alive to speak!"
May you like
Vincent looked down at her, the dark fire in his gaze softening for a fraction of a second. "He will speak, Elena. I will make sure of that. And then, you will be the one who decides when he stops breathing."
***
