Chapter 6 - THE POISONED CHALICE
The attack on the beach eliminated any remaining doubt: there was a leak at the highest level of the Rossi syndicate. Salvatore Moretti knew their patrol routes, their safe-zone schedules, and the identities of everyone inside the estate.
Back at the compound, Dominic gathered his inner circle in the grand dining hall. Five capos sat around the twenty-foot mahogany table. Luca sat at Dominic’s right hand, his expression carved from stone. Emma was instructed to stand by the bar near the back—ostensibly serving drinks, but in reality acting as Dominic’s hidden pair of eyes.
"Moretti attempted to execute me on public sand," Dominic stated, his voice ringing through the hall like a funeral bell. "He knew the blind spot in the boardwalk cameras. He knew the precise window when the patrol shifted."
"It's an outrage!" Luca barked, slamming his palm on the table. "We should mobilize our soldiers tonight! Burn Moretti's warehouses in Doral! Show them blood!"
"War is expensive, Luca," Dominic said softly. "Especially when the enemy is being fed our battle plans from this very room."
A dead silence descended on the table. The capos looked at one another with barely concealed suspicion.
"Someone here accepted a wire transfer of five million dollars through an offshore trust in Panama yesterday morning," Dominic continued, sliding a manila folder onto the center of the table.
Emma watched the men closely. While the other three capos leaned forward in shock to inspect the papers, Luca’s eyes darted immediately toward the heavy French doors leading to the courtyard. His right hand twitched toward his waistband.
"Dominic," Emma called out quietly from the bar, her voice slicing through the heavy tension. "He's reaching."
Luca moved with shocking speed for a man his age, drawing a snub-nosed revolver and leveling it directly at Dominic’s head. "You arrogant pup! Your father understood respect! You cut into our profits, pushing us toward clean money, legitimate ports! Moretti offered us a real future!"
Before Luca could pull the trigger, Dominic kicked the heavy mahogany table upward. The massive slab of wood absorbed the bullet with a deafening crack. Dominic vaulted over the table like a panther, disarming Luca with a brutal twist of the wrist that resulted in an audible snap of bone.
Luca howled in agony as Dominic pinned him to the floor, the barrel of his own gun pressed firmly against his temple.
"Who else, Luca?" Dominic growled, the calm billionaire completely replaced by the terrifying Don of Miami. "Give me the network, or you won't live to see the sunset."
"It's... it's over, Rossi," Luca spat, blood flecking his lips. "Moretti already took the docks. He has your shipments. He has the city."
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Dominic stood up, cold fury radiating from every pore. He signaled Marco. "Take him to the cellar. Keep him breathing until he gives up the safehouse coordinates." He turned his eyes to Emma, who was standing frozen against the bar. His expression softened by an imperceptible fraction. "You're getting too good at this, Emma."
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