Chapter 2 - THE BASEMENT
“There’s a cage, Boss,” my lieutenant, Dante, whispered over the phone. The line crackled, but his voice was trembling. Dante was a man who had disposed of bodies for me, a man who didn't flinch at the sight of bone or blood. But right now, he sounded sick. “A dog cage. And there are scratch marks on the inside of the door. Small ones. Like fingernails.”
I gripped the phone so hard the screen cracked under my thumb. The sterile white walls of the hospital consultation room seemed to spin.
“What else?” I demanded, my voice dropping to a register that made the pediatric orthopedic surgeon take a slow, terrified step back toward the door.
“There’s a mattress on the concrete,” Dante continued, his breathing heavy. “A bucket in the corner. And blood on the wall. Boss... the cops are throwing up outside. The lead detective is calling for a tactical unit. They think whoever did this might still be on the property. But Rebecca... she’s sitting in the living room, crying to a patrol officer, saying the kids must have run away to the woods.”
“She’s lying,” I said softly. It wasn’t a statement of discovery. It was a death sentence.
“Do I take her?” Dante asked. The shift in his tone was immediate. The sickness was gone, replaced by the cold, mechanical loyalty of a soldier awaiting an order.
“No. Let the police arrest her,” I replied, my mind racing through the variables. “If you take her now, the heat comes down on us, and I need my hands clean to secure custody of Ethan’s kids. Let the system process her. But Dante... put eyes on her inside the precinct. Make sure she doesn't make bail. If a judge tries to let her walk, buy the judge. If you can't buy him, threaten him.”
“Consider it done.”
I hung up the phone and turned back to the doctor. He was staring at me, his clipboard pressed against his chest like a shield. He had just heard a side of Thomas Moretti he was never supposed to witness.
“Dr. Evans,” I said smoothly, forcing the monster back beneath the surface. I smoothed the lapels of my tailored suit. “You were telling me about my nephew’s injuries.”
He swallowed hard. “Y-yes, Mr. Moretti. The fracture on his tibia is a spiral fracture. It’s consistent with twisting... with immense physical force. It’s been healing incorrectly for weeks. He must have been in excruciating pain. The other marks on the X-ray show previous hairline fractures on his ribs. He’s been subjected to sustained physical abuse.”
I closed my eyes. The image of Ethan’s face flashed in my mind. My brother, who had always been the gentle one. The architect. The man who painted watercolors with Maya on Sunday mornings while I was out breaking knee-caps to secure our family’s territory. I had promised him I would watch over them. I had failed.
“Fix him,” I opened my eyes, locking onto Dr. Evans. “I don’t care what it costs. I will buy this hospital if I have to. Put them in the VIP wing on the top floor. No one goes in or out without my authorization. Not the police, not child services, and certainly no family.”
“I’ll make the arrangements immediately,” he stammered, practically running out of the room.
I walked out into the corridor. Two of my men, wearing dark suits and earpieces, were already stationed outside the children’s room. I nodded to them and stepped inside.
Leo was lying in the hospital bed, his small leg wrapped in a temporary splint. Maya was curled up beside him, finally asleep, her thumb resting near her mouth. Leo’s eyes were open, tracking my every movement. He looked like a cornered animal waiting for the final blow.
I pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. I didn't reach out to touch him. I knew better than to corner a terrified child.
“Leo,” I said softly. “The police went to your house. They found the basement.”
Leo flinched, pulling the hospital blanket up to his chin. “Is she coming?”
“No,” I promised, leaning forward so he could see the absolute certainty in my eyes. “Rebecca is never going to touch you again. Do you understand me? You are with me now. And in my world, nobody hurts my family and lives to talk about it.”
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For the first time since he crawled to my gate, the tense, adult-like vigilance in Leo’s eyes shattered. He let out a ragged sob, burying his face in the pillow. I stood up, gently placing a hand on his back as he cried for the father he had lost, the torture he had endured, and the childhood that had been violently ripped away from him.
The Austin syndicate was going to war. But this time, it wasn't for territory. It was for blood.
