Chapter 6 - ELENA’S LAST VIDEO
Sophia wanted to come to Pier Nine.
I refused.
She screamed at me.
I still refused.
Then she slapped me.
The entire command room went silent.
My guards stared at the floor.
Nathan looked fascinated.
Sophia’s palm remained suspended between us.
“You do not get to tell me to stay home while my daughter is with a kidnapper.”
I touched my cheek.
Nobody had slapped me in twenty-four years.
“You have Isabella.”
“Isabella has Nathan.”
“She trusts you.”
“Emma needs me.”
“She needs you alive.”
Sophia’s eyes filled.
“You think because you have guns and men and cars that only you can be useful.”
I stared.
She stepped closer.
“That arrogance is exactly what Elena was trying to fight.”
The room went still.
That name.
Those words.
I could have thrown her out.
Instead, I said, “Fine.”
Nathan blinked.
“Did she just win?”
“Don’t speak.”
Sophia exhaled.
“I’m coming.”
“You stay behind the tactical line.”
“We’ll discuss it.”
“No.”
She stared.
I stared back.
Nathan whispered to a guard, “This is better than television.”
I pointed at him.
“Go check Isabella.”
“Gladly.”
Marco sat handcuffed near the window.
His nose was swollen.
His eyes looked exhausted.
He watched Sophia.
“Elena would have liked her.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Say Elena’s name as if you knew her.”
Marco’s face tightened.
“I did know her.”
“You killed her.”
“I know.”
The answer had no defense now.
No denial.
Only truth.
That somehow hurt more.
I placed the crescent charm on the table.
“What does Rico mean? What else is inside?”
Marco looked at it.
“Rosa designed the compartment.”
“Rosa?”
“Elena asked her.”
“For what?”
“A digital storage chip.”
I stared.
“This charm is twenty years old.”
“The charm is. The compartment isn’t.”
“Where?”
He pointed at the inner engraving.
“Third star.”
I pressed it.
Nothing.
“Rotate clockwise.”
A tiny silver panel released.
Inside was a microSD card.
Sophia whispered, “My mother.”
I inserted it into an adapter.
One video file.
One.
Dated two days before the ambush.
My hands shook.
I opened it.
Elena appeared on screen.
She was sitting beneath the maple tree.
Alive.
Beautiful.
Angry.
My wife.
“Matteo.”
Her voice cracked me open.
“If you are watching this, then either I finally became dramatic enough to impress your family, or something went very wrong.”
I laughed.
Then cried.
Sophia stood beside me.
Marco lowered his head.
Elena continued.
“I found proof Marco has been diverting cargo through San Aurelio. Rico is helping him. There are judges, customs officers, and two men inside your own security team.”
Names appeared on the screen.
Anthony Bell.
Victor Caruso.
Rico D’Angelo.
Several others.
Elena looked straight into the camera.
“Marco thinks you’ve become weak.”
Her eyes softened.
“I think you’re becoming human.”
My throat closed.
“The reason I have not told you yet is because I am afraid of what you will do.”
She smiled sadly.
“Not to me.”
“To everyone else.”
Marco covered his face.
Elena continued.
“Your father taught you that protection means making people fear the consequences of touching what you love.”
She shook her head.
“I need you to learn something else.”
I stared at her.
“If anything happens to me, Isabella needs a father more than the Moretti family needs revenge.”
I stopped breathing.
There it was.
Across three years.
A command.
A plea.
A warning.
“Do not burn the city for me.”
Tears ran down my face.
“Choose our daughter.”
The video paused for a second.
Then Elena leaned closer.
“And if Marco is responsible?”
Marco looked up.
“Make him live long enough to understand what he destroyed.”
My brother sobbed.
I could not look at him.
Elena’s voice softened.
“I love you.”
She smiled.
“Even when you say tomorrow.”
The video ended.
No one spoke.
For nearly a minute, the only sound was the ventilation system.
Then Sophia touched my hand.
I let her.
Marco whispered, “I never saw that.”
“Good.”
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“She knew exactly what I was.”
“Yes.”
His face twisted.
“And still she asked you not to kill me.”
I turned.
“She asked me to choose Isabella.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“It has nothing to do with saving you.”
A call came from Pier Nine.
One of my surveillance teams had eyes on the warehouse.
Rico had at least twelve armed men.
Caruso was visible.
Emma was not.
Sophia’s face tightened.
“Where is she?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Marco leaned toward the table.
“Rico won’t hurt her immediately.”
“You’re defending him?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“He uses children for pressure. He hates actual blood on children.”
Sophia stared at him.
“You expect that to comfort me?”
“No.”
“Then stop talking.”
Marco nodded.
I almost admired her.
We began planning.
Rico expected me with armed soldiers.
That was his world.
Mine too.
But Elena’s video had changed the plan.
For the first time in my adult life, I called federal investigators before a war.
A man named Agent Daniel Reeves answered.
He had spent fifteen years trying to put me in prison.
His first words were, “This better be good.”
“A three-year-old girl has been kidnapped.”
Silence.
“By whom?”
“Rico D’Angelo.”
“Your Rico D’Angelo?”
“Apparently not anymore.”
“What do you want from me?”
“To help get her out alive.”
Reeves laughed once.
“You’re asking the FBI for help.”
“Yes.”
“Am I hallucinating?”
“Possibly.”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“Matteo Moretti does not call federal agents without a catch.”
I looked at Elena’s frozen image on the screen.
“Maybe Matteo Moretti is tired.”
That silenced him.
We arranged a joint operation.
I would enter with Marco.
Rico would believe I was negotiating privately.
Federal tactical teams would position outside.
My trusted men would stay farther back in case Rico had corrupted law enforcement too.
Sophia would remain in an armored vehicle close enough to reach Emma immediately after recovery.
She hated that compromise.
Accepted it.
At ten p.m., Isabella asked to see me.
I entered her bedroom.
She sat upright against pillows.
The silver braces Nathan had fitted temporarily lay beside the bed.
“Are you going to get Emma?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
She stared at me.
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not.”
“What about Uncle Marco?”
“He’s coming.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows Rico.”
She thought.
Then said quietly, “Do you hate him?”
I sat beside her.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Are you going to kill him?”
The question hurt.
“No.”
“You could.”
“Yes.”
“Why not?”
Because your mother asked me not to become worse.
Because I was tired of graves.
Because I wanted my daughter to grow up knowing power could mean restraint.
“Because killing him won’t bring Mommy back.”
Isabella looked at her legs.
“And it won’t make these work.”
“No.”
She touched my hand.
“Then don’t.”
My eyes filled.
“Okay.”
She smiled.
Emma had awakened her toes.
My daughter was awakening everything else.
Before I left, Isabella called me again.
“Papa?”
“Yes?”
“When you find Emma, tell her I moved my knee.”
I froze.
“What?”
She grinned.
“Just a little.”
I looked at the blanket.
“Show me.”
She concentrated.
Her right knee rose perhaps half an inch.
My hand went over my mouth.
She laughed.
“You’re crying.”
“Apparently that’s my life now.”
“Emma’s going to make fun of you.”
“I’m sure.”
I kissed her forehead.
Then I went downstairs.
Marco waited by the door.
For the first time since we were boys, he wore no ring.
I noticed.
“Where is it?”
He looked at his bare hand.
“I took it off.”
“Why?”
“Isabella looked at it like it was a weapon.”
We walked outside.
The winter night was black.
Cold.
Silent.
Marco stopped beside the car.
“Matteo.”
“What?”
“If Rico makes you choose between me and the child—”
“I choose the child.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
I looked at him.
Something almost familiar stood there.
My younger brother.
The boy who once followed me everywhere.
Buried beneath thirty years of ambition.
“You should have chosen us,” I said.
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
We got into the car.
May you like
At eleven forty-six, Pier Nine came into view.
And somewhere inside the dark warehouse, a three-year-old girl who had been brave enough to touch my daughter’s feet was waiting for men like me to prove we could finally protect something without destroying everything around it.
