Chapter 3 - THE BLOOD MORETTI RULE
Salvatore did not confess.
Men like my uncle rarely did.
Confession required believing guilt mattered.
He believed survival mattered.
Power mattered.
Family mattered only when it served both.
“You’re behaving emotionally,” he told me.
We were alone in the warehouse office.
Marco guarded the door.
Salvatore sat across from me as though he were still the elder and I the boy expected to listen.
“You think caring about a child makes you noble.”
“No.”
“It makes you vulnerable.”
“I noticed.”
“Then why are we sitting here?”
“Because I want to know how deep this goes.”
He smiled.
“You think I arranged the kidnapping.”
“I think you arranged the conditions.”
“That’s a distinction without a difference.”
“No. It tells me whether Vincent Colombo is your partner or your weapon.”
His smile disappeared.
Good.
I continued.
“Colombo wants Red Hook.”
“Yes.”
“You want me removed.”
He leaned back.
“Do I?”
“You’ve opposed me at council for three years.”
“I’ve opposed bad decisions.”
“You told Angelo Vescovi I was becoming weak.”
“A man who brings a maid and her child into family business is weak.”
“I never brought them into business.”
“You brought them into your heart.”
His contempt was unmistakable.
That told me more than evidence.
Salvatore believed affection itself was corruption.
“You told Colombo about Sofia.”
“I did not.”
“You told someone.”
He said nothing.
“Was it Costa?”
Still nothing.
I stood.
“Marco.”
The door opened.
“Bring Niko.”
Niko came in.
He looked at Salvatore with hatred.
“I want a deal.”
Salvatore laughed.
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
Niko ignored him.
“I’ll tell you everything I know.”
I remained silent.
“I saw Salvatore with Costa.”
Salvatore’s face changed.
“Where?”
I asked.
Niko answered.
“Staten Island. Two weeks ago. The private room at Santoro’s.”
Salvatore said:
“He’s lying.”
Niko laughed bitterly.
“I was there collecting from a bookmaker. I saw you leave.”
Salvatore turned to me.
“You’ll take the word of a traitor over blood?”
“Yes.”
That answer struck him harder than I expected.
I continued:
“Because the traitor admits what he is.”
Salvatore stood.
“Your father would be ashamed.”
“My father is dead.”
“And everything he built will die with you if you hand it to a woman and a child.”
There.
The real fear.
Not Red Hook.
Not Colombo.
Succession.
I had no wife.
No children.
No recognized heir.
Salvatore had spent years assuming his son, Carlo, would eventually inherit influence.
Then Elena and Sofia entered my house.
Rumors started.
Rumors about marriage.
About adoption.
About Dominic Moretti building a different future.
A future that made Salvatore’s branch irrelevant.
“You thought I would marry Elena.”
He laughed.
“You?”
“You believed it.”
“You hate marriage.”
“I hated children too.”
That wiped the amusement from his face.
I leaned closer.
“So you convinced Colombo to take them.”
“No.”
“To prove they were liabilities.”
“No.”
“To force me to choose between them and the family.”
Salvatore finally looked away.
I understood.
“Jesus.”
Niko whispered.
Salvatore’s jaw tightened.
“I told Colombo that if he wanted leverage, Elena was unprotected.”
My fists clenched.
“You gave him her route?”
“No.”
“Niko did.”
Niko looked sick.
Salvatore continued.
“I expected him to take the woman.”
“And Sofia?”
“I never told him to touch the girl.”
I wanted to kill him.
Simple.
Clean.
Permanent.
Instead, I remembered Sofia’s voice.
You don’t have to be scary when it’s just us.
I sat again.
“Why?”
Salvatore looked at me as though the answer were obvious.
“You changed.”
“Yes.”
“You stopped listening.”
“To you.”
“To the family.”
“You mean to men like you.”
He leaned forward.
“You think your reforms made us stronger? Men laugh at us now. You refuse narcotics contracts. You refuse trafficking. You refuse protection deals that made your father millions.”
“I refuse garbage.”
“You refuse tradition.”
“I refuse evil that creates enemies faster than money.”
Salvatore sneered.
“Listen to yourself. Talking like a businessman.”
“I am a businessman.”
“You are a Moretti.”
“I decide what that means.”
His expression became cold.
“Not alone.”
There it was.
He had allies.
“Who?”
He smiled.
I stood.
“Marco.”
Marco entered.
“Move Salvatore downstairs.”
Salvatore laughed.
“You think locking me up will save them?”
I stopped.
“What does that mean?”
He smiled wider.
“Colombo knows you’re coming.”
“Obviously.”
“No.”
He looked directly at me.
“He knows your methods.”
Ice moved through my blood.
“How?”
“Because somebody closer than Niko has been feeding him information for months.”
Marco froze.
Salvatore enjoyed our reaction.
“Who?”
I demanded.
“If I knew, I’d tell you.”
“Liar.”
“Not this time.”
He stood as guards grabbed him.
“You built an empire around loyalty, Dominic.”
His smile was almost pitying.
“Tonight you’ll learn how little of it you actually own.”
They took him away.
Marco closed the door.
“I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I.”
“You believe him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted to hurt me.”
“And?”
“That truth hurts more than any lie.”
We reviewed every security assignment.
Every captain.
Every driver.
Every accountant.
Then one name bothered me.
Carlo Moretti.
Salvatore’s son.
My cousin.
Thirty-eight.
Quiet.
Educated.
The one Moretti who had always insisted family violence should decrease.
He had supported my reforms publicly.
Too consistently.
“Where’s Carlo?” I asked.
Marco checked.
“Home.”
“Verify.”
A call.
No answer.
His guard detail said Carlo left two hours ago.
No destination.
Marco looked at me.
“Maybe he’s the leak.”
“Maybe.”
Then my encrypted phone rang.
Elena.
Again.
I answered.
This time her voice was barely audible.
“Dominic.”
“I’m here.”
“Sofia’s asleep.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Can you see where you are?”
“A room. No windows.”
“Any sounds?”
She paused.
“Ships.”
Red Hook.
“Anything else?”
“A church bell.”
I looked at Marco.
There were three churches within range of the docks.
“Listen to me. I’m coming.”
“Don’t.”
The word stopped me.
“Elena.”
“They want you angry.”
“I am angry.”
“That’s what they’re counting on.”
I closed my eyes.
She knew me too well.
“I’m bringing you home.”
Her voice broke.
“I know.”
Then she whispered:
“If something happens—”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“No.”
“You need to hear me.”
“I don’t.”
“Sofia loves you.”
My throat closed.
“She thinks you hung the moon.”
“Elena—”
“And I…”
Silence.
My heart stopped.
“I love you.”
The words came quietly.
Not dramatic.
Not desperate.
Just true.
I gripped the phone.
“I should have told you before.”
“Elena.”
“But I thought loving a man like you was stupid.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“It is.”
She laughed through tears.
Then a door opened on her side.
A man shouted.
The line disconnected.
I stood.
Marco looked at me.
“She gave us something.”
“What?”
“Church bell.”
We pulled maps.
Three churches.
St. Anthony’s.
Our Lady of Mercy.
St. Brigid’s.
We compared shipping lanes.
Only one sat close enough to active docks for her to hear deep-water freighters.
St. Brigid’s.
Two blocks from an old cold-storage warehouse officially owned by a seafood company.
Unofficially connected to Colombo interests.
Marco looked at me.
“We found them.”
“Maybe.”
My phone buzzed.
A text.
From Carlo.
DON’T GO TO ST. BRIGID’S. IT’S A TRAP.
Marco stared.
“How the hell does Carlo know?”
I typed.
WHERE ARE YOU?
No answer.
Then another text.
YOUR HOUSE.
I went cold.
My mansion.
Where Salvatore’s men had served for years.
Where Sofia slept.
Where Elena worked.
Where every Moretti secret had been discussed.
“Why is Carlo at my house?”
Marco asked.
I called my security chief.
No answer.
Another guard.
No answer.
Then the estate alarm system went offline.
Marco cursed.
I understood.
St. Brigid’s was not the only attack tonight.
Someone was moving against my home.
My archives.
My money.
My command center.
Everything Salvatore believed belonged to the Moretti family rather than me.
I looked at Marco.
“You take fifty men to the mansion.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to Red Hook.”
“Alone?”
“Not anymore.”
I opened a secure channel.
“Call every captain who answers to me personally.”
Marco hesitated.
“You don’t know who the mole is.”
“No.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Yes.”
I picked up Miss Rose.
“But Elena gave us one location.”
I tucked the doll inside my coat.
“And Salvatore gave us another.”
May you like
“Which?”
“Anywhere somebody tells me not to go.”
