Chapter 6 - The Zurich Trap
The sterile, fluorescent light of the vault room caught the polished steel of the mercenaries’ suppressed pistols.
I instinctively stepped in front of the car seat holding a sleeping Emma, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Alessandro didn’t flinch. He slowly closed the leather ledger. “Ricci. I should have known the rot started at the top.”
The old Don chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. “Your father was weak, Alessandro. He wanted to legitimize the families. Go corporate. We are men of the shadows. When your brother Tomaso started looking into the past, I had to remove him.”
“And Vivian?” Alessandro asked, his voice dangerously calm.
“A foolish girl playing a grown woman’s game,” Ricci scoffed. “She thought marrying you would give her control. But I prefer a cleaner slate. No Morettis left alive.”
Ricci nodded at his men. “Kill the boss. Make the woman and child disappear.”
The mercenaries raised their weapons.
In a fraction of a second, Alessandro kicked the heavy steel table forward. It crashed into the two leading gunmen, pinning them against the doorframe. At the same time, he drew a sleek black pistol from his shoulder holster and fired twice.
The suppressed shots were quiet, but the impact was devastating. The two remaining guards dropped to the floor.
Ricci stumbled backward, his cane clattering against the marble tiles. “You fool! You can’t kill me. The twelve families will tear Milan apart to avenge me!”
“Let them try,” Alessandro snarled, grabbing the old man by the collar of his expensive suit. He shoved Ricci violently against the wall, pressing the barrel of his gun under the Don’s chin.
“Wait!” I screamed.
Alessandro froze, looking at me with wild eyes.
“The ledger,” I said, my voice shaking, but clear. “If you kill him now, it’s a mafia war. But if you take that ledger to the Commission... you don’t just kill Ricci. You destroy his entire legacy. You strip his family of their wealth, their power, everything.”
Ricci’s eyes widened in genuine terror. Death he could accept. Disgrace and poverty, he could not.
Alessandro stared at me. He saw the cold logic in my eyes. The housekeeper was gone. The widow of a Moretti stood in her place.
He lowered the gun and struck Ricci across the temple with the heavy steel grip. The old Don crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Alessandro quickly gathered the ledger and Emma’s drawing. He grabbed my hand, his grip warm and protective. “We have to move. Now.”
We navigated the labyrinth of the underground facility, avoiding the main elevators and taking a service stairwell to a back alley.
As we threw ourselves into the SUV, I looked down at the child’s drawing I was still clutching. The scarred man giving Emma the rabbit.
“Alessandro,” I whispered, staring at the crayon scribbles. “This man in the drawing... he has a scar over his left eye.”
Alessandro glanced at it, his face going pale in the dashboard light. “Marco. My head of security has that scar.”
My blood ran cold. “Marco gave Emma the rabbit?”
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Before Alessandro could answer, his phone buzzed. It was a text message from Marco.
I have Vivian. Come to the old docks. Come alone, or I send her to you in pieces.
