Chapter 8 - Ashes of the Past
The gunfire in the grand hall slowly died down, replaced by the groans of the wounded and the sharp hiss of spent shell casings cooling in puddles of water.
Antonio and the remaining DeLuca guards swept through the room, securing the surviving mercenaries and collecting their weapons. Out of the twenty men Silas had brought, sixteen lay dead or dying on the marble floor.
In the dining room, Lorenzo held Silas’s face pressed against the polished wood of the table. A single oil lamp burned on the sideboard, casting a harsh, flickering light over Silas’s bruised and bloody features.
“Who else?” Lorenzo growled, pressing the hot barrel of his handgun against Silas’s temple.
“What?” Silas sobbed, blood dripping from his broken nose onto the mahogany table.
“Matteo didn't forge the coroner’s report alone,” Lorenzo said, his voice dropping into a terrifying whisper. “A doctor signed off on the death certificate of my daughter. A coroner verified the scorched blanket in that three-foot coffin. Give me their names, Silas, or I start taking your fingers one by one.”
“Dr. Vance!” Silas screamed desperately, his pride completely broken. “Dr. Vance at Saint Jude’s Hospital! We paid him fifty thousand dollars to sign the paperwork! And Chief Coroner Hayes! He swapped the DNA samples!”
Lorenzo stared down at the pathetic old man squirming under his grip.
For eight months, Lorenzo had lived in a prison of grief constructed by corrupt doctors, greedy coroners, and envious lieutenants. They had taken the happiest moment of his life and turned it into an endless nightmare of funeral rain and empty graves.
“Antonio,” Lorenzo called out.
Antonio stepped into the dining room, wiping blood from his cheek with a handkerchief. “Yes, Don DeLuca?”
“Take five men,” Lorenzo instructed coldly. “Pick up Dr. Vance and Coroner Hayes. Bring them to the docks. I want their hands tied to cinderblocks before the sun comes up.”
“Understood, boss,” Antonio nodded grimly.
Lorenzo looked back down at Silas Moretti.
“Please, Lorenzo,” Silas whimpered, tears streaming down his face. “We can make a deal! I’ll give you all my territory in Queens! I’ll step down! Just let me live!”
Lorenzo leaned close to Silas’s ear.
“You put a bomb on the road where my wife was traveling,” Lorenzo said softly. “You tried to steal my child. There are no deals for men like you.”
BANG.
Lorenzo pulled the trigger. Silas went limp, falling sideways off the dining table onto the rug.
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Lorenzo didn't look at the body. He reholstered his weapon, wiped a smear of soot from his forehead, and turned back toward the hallway.
“Clean this house,” Lorenzo ordered his men. “And bring Matteo up from the basement.”
