Chapter 11 - The West Dock
The broadcast had stopped, but the war had not.
Carlo still had copies. Enzo was wounded but alive. The priest’s betrayal still needed explaining. The Ferrettis were somewhere beyond the gates, waiting to see whether the Duca empire would collapse before breakfast.
And Carlo was headed for the west dock.
Lorenzo tried to stand. His legs nearly failed.
Matteo caught him. “No.”
Lorenzo glared. “I am not hiding in a cellar while that man runs.”
“You are bleeding through your bandage.”
“I have bled before.”
Mia stepped between them. “Congratulations. Tonight you’re trying something new called not dying.”
Lorenzo looked at Matteo. “Control your guard.”
Matteo looked at Mia. “I have never controlled her for even one second.”
“Good answer,” Mia said.
Bianca handed Mia a tablet sealed in a waterproof case. “The external logs show an upload began, but your sprinkler disaster interrupted it. Only a partial file went out.”
“Partial how?”
“Enough to scare people. Not enough to prove everything.”
Lorenzo exhaled.
Mia looked at him. “That means Carlo still needs the complete ledger.”
Matteo touched the medal beneath his shirt.
Mia nodded. “And he knows we know.”
They split into two groups because Mia hated it, which meant Carlo would not expect it. Bianca and two loyal guards took Lorenzo to the hidden garage with the recovered drive. Matteo and Mia moved toward the west dock through the old laundry corridor.
The estate’s lower level smelled like seawater and fuel. Waves slammed against the rocks below. Wind shook the windows.
Matteo walked too close to Mia.
She noticed.
“You’re crowding me,” she whispered.
“I’m protecting you.”
“You’re the client.”
“You climbed a roof for me.”
“That was work.”
“You bit a man for me.”
“That was also work.”
“You called me handsome.”
“That was a clerical error.”
He smiled in the dark.
For half a second, the danger around them felt distant.
Then Carlo stepped from the shadows and pressed a gun to Matteo’s head.
Mia froze.
Carlo’s face was bruised. One hand was bandaged where she had bitten him. His eyes were bright with rage.
“Drop it,” he said.
Mia slowly lowered her weapon.
Carlo smiled. “On the floor.”
She obeyed.
Matteo did not move. His eyes stayed on Mia.
Carlo reached under Matteo’s collar and yanked the chain free. The saint medal glinted in his hand.
“There,” Carlo said softly. “The heart of the empire.”
Mia watched him turn the medal over. A tiny seam ran along its edge. He pressed it, and a small chip slid out.
The final key.
Carlo looked almost tender as he held it.
Then he hit Matteo across the face with his gun.
Matteo dropped to one knee.
Mia moved.
Carlo pointed the gun at her.
“Do not,” he said.
For the first time that night, Mia stopped.
Because Matteo’s blood was on Carlo’s knuckles.
And Carlo’s finger was on the trigger.
“Smart girl,” Carlo said.
Mia lifted her hands.
Behind Carlo, through the window, the west dock lights flickered.
A boat waited below.
So did three armed men.
Carlo backed toward the stairwell, dragging Matteo with him. “You may tell Lorenzo his son bought him ten more minutes of dignity.”
Mia’s heart pounded.
She looked helpless.
She made sure Carlo saw it.
Then, as he stepped backward, his heel caught on the laundry basket Mia had nudged into his path seconds earlier.
May you like
He stumbled.
Mia lunged.
