Chapter 5 - A Fortress Built of Rain and Fire
Julian’s arrogant smile flickered slightly when he saw my face.
He had known me for thirty-four years. He knew what I looked like when I was negotiating a ten-million-dollar land deal, he knew what I looked like when I was ordering a hit on a rival boss, and he knew what I looked like when I was about to kill.
"Adrian?" Julian took a subtle half-step backward toward Dante, his hand hovering near his silk tie. "What’s going on? You look... sick."
"Dante," I said, my voice dead, smooth, and echoing off the pink walls of my daughter's nursery. "Lock the door."
Dante didn't ask questions. He stepped backward out of the room, pulled the heavy oak door shut, and turned the silver key from the outside.
CLICK-LOCK.
Julian’s face pale instantly. The suave, polished lawyer vanished, replaced by a twitchy, nervous animal trapped in a small space.
"Adrian, what is this madness?!" Julian shouted, his voice pitching higher. "You can't lock me in here! We have a meeting with the Falcone emissaries at two o'clock! If I'm not there—"
"Michael Romano left a letter," I said.
Julian went completely still.
The silence in the nursery was so dense you could hear the rain beginning to patter against the high glass windowpanes.
"Michael..." Julian swallowed hard, his throat clicking as his eyes darted nervously down to the small, folded square of yellow notebook paper sitting on Claire’s white nightstand. "Michael was a traitor, Adrian. We proved that three years ago. He took Falcone’s money, planted the charge under your car, and ran—"
"Michael didn't plant the charge, Julian," I interrupted, taking one slow, heavy step forward. "He found out you were stealing from our laundering accounts. He caught you transferring two million dollars to Detroit."
Julian’s left eye twitched violently. "That’s a lie! That’s the word of a dead soldier against your own blood! You’re going to believe a piece of paper written by a rogue gunman over your own brother?!"
I didn't answer with words.
I reached out with my left hand, grabbed Julian by his expensive silk tie, and slammed his heavy body backward against the wall. Pictures of Claire fell off the hooks, glass shattering against the hardwood floor.
"AUGH!" Julian gasped, his hands clawing uselessly at my fingers clamped around his throat.
"My wife died in that fire, Julian," I growled, bringing my face until my teeth were inches from his ear. "My five-year-old daughter was burned into ash inside that car. For three years, I haven't slept a full hour. For three years, I’ve been drinking myself to death, waiting for a reason to put a bullet through my own head."
"Adrian... please..." Julian choked out, his eyes bulging as his feet dangled two inches above the floor. "I... I didn't mean for Elena and Claire to be in the car... it was supposed to be just you... Falcone promised me the seat... he promised me—"
He stopped.
The confession slipped out of his mouth before his lawyer's brain could stop it.
Beside the nightstand, Sofia gasped, clutching Emma against her chest, her eyes wide with horrified realization.
I lowered Julian slowly until his polished shoes hit the floor, but I didn't let go of his tie. I stared into his eyes—the same dark brown eyes our father had passed down to both of us—and felt absolutely nothing. No anger. No fury. Just a cold, dark emptiness that demanded total balance.
"You killed them," I whispered.
"They were collateral damage!" Julian screamed, tears of panic finally spilling down his cheeks as he realized he was standing inside his own grave. "You were weak, Adrian! You were spending all your time playing house with Elena and the kid while Falcone was taking our territory block by block! The family was dying under your rule! I did what needed to be done to save the Moretti empire!"
"The empire is dead, Julian," I said softly.
I drew my matte-black pistol from my shoulder holster.
Julian shrieked, twisting frantically in my grip. "No! Adrian, no! I’m your brother! You can't kill your own blood! It’s against the code! The council will execute you!"
"There is no council," I said.
I raised the heavy pistol frame and slammed the iron butt of the gun directly across Julian’s temple.
CRACK.
Julian’s eyes rolled back into his head, his knees buckling instantly as his limp body collapsed onto the hardwood floor like a sack of wet flour.
I stood over him, my chest heaving, the heavy gun resting at my side.
I looked back at Sofia and Emma.
Emma was staring at her uncle's unconscious body, her little thumb slipped into her mouth, her eyes wide but unblinking.
"Is the bad man gone now?" she asked softly.
I lowered my gun, re-holstering it beneath my jacket, before walking over to stand in front of them. I dropped to one knee, looking up at Sofia.
"He's gone, Emma," I said gently. "And he's never coming back."
I looked at Sofia. "Pack your things. You and Emma are moving into the primary suite on the second floor."
May you like
Sofia blinked in disbelief. "The primary suite? Mr. Moretti... Adrian... that’s your private floor. What about the Falcone syndicate? If Julian’s men realize you know the truth—"
"Let them realize it," I said, a dark, dangerous smile touching my lips for the first time in three years. "I’ve spent three years hiding behind the walls of this mansion, waiting to die. Today, I start hunting."
