Chapter 8 - THE ASHES OF EMPIRE
The flashing red and blue lights painted the wet walls of the police precinct in a chaotic rhythm.
Luca sat on a hard wooden bench in the interrogation room, staring blankly at the Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hands. It had gone cold hours ago.
His hands were still stained with Marco’s blood.
The door clicked open. An older detective with bags under his eyes walked in, dropping a thick file on the metal table.
“You’re a free man, Mr. Moretti,” the detective said, his voice flat. “For now.”
Luca didn't look up. “Why?”
“Because we found Vincent’s private safe at his penthouse,” the detective explained, tapping the folder. “We found the ledgers. The wire transfers. The blackmail material he was holding over half the judges in this city. He was orchestrating a hostile takeover of your entire organization.”
The detective leaned forward. “And we found the surveillance footage from the restaurant. It proves Vincent poisoned you. As far as the law is concerned tonight, you’re the victim of an attempted assassination, and your brother—who miraculously rose from the dead—stopped a terrorist at the railyard.”
Luca finally looked up. His eyes were hollow, devoid of the cold ambition that had defined him for fifteen years.
“Where is he?” Luca asked quietly.
“Your brother’s body is at the coroner's office,” the detective said softly. “You can claim him tomorrow. Give him a proper burial this time.”
Luca nodded slowly. He stood up, his joints screaming in protest. He left the coffee on the table and walked out of the precinct into the pale, gray light of early dawn.
The criminal empire he had spent his life building was gone. Vincent had exposed all its roots in his bid for power, and the police were already rounding up the capos. The Moretti family was finished.
And Luca couldn't care less.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number.
It went straight to voicemail.
“Elena,” Luca said, his voice raw. “It’s me. It’s over. Vincent is dead. The police know everything. You and Leo are safe. Go to the cabin. Wait for me.”
He hung up, pulling his collar up against the morning chill.
For the next three days, Luca moved like a ghost. He arranged a quiet, private funeral for Marco. There were no mob bosses, no politicians, no reporters. Just a priest, Luca, and a simple marble headstone next to their father’s.
On the third day, Luca drove a rented sedan three hours north into the Catskill Mountains.
The winding dirt road was surrounded by towering pines and the crisp, clean smell of autumn. He pulled up to a massive, beautiful log cabin overlooking a pristine lake.
Smoke was rising from the stone chimney.
Luca parked the car and walked up the wooden steps. He didn't even need to knock. The door swung open.
Elena stood there, wearing a thick wool sweater, holding a mug of tea. She looked rested. The profound terror that had gripped her face in the city was gone.
“You made it,” she said softly.
Luca nodded. “I made it.”
She stepped aside, letting him in. A fire was roaring in the hearth. The cabin smelled of pine and cinnamon.
“Where’s Leo?” Luca asked.
Elena pointed to the back porch. Through the glass doors, Luca saw the boy sitting on a wooden dock by the water, skipping stones into the lake. Around his neck, resting against his shirt, was Marco’s heavy silver cross.
“He hasn't taken it off since that night,” Elena said quietly, standing beside Luca. “He says it makes him brave.”
Luca felt a lump in his throat. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out Marco’s silver locket. He stared at it for a long moment, then handed it to Elena.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Marco’s daughter,” Luca said. “I’m going to find her. I’m going to make sure she’s taken care of. It’s the last thing I promised him.”
Elena looked at the locket, then up at Luca. The mafia boss she had met in the restaurant was gone. In his place was a broken, tired man trying to put the pieces of his soul back together.
“We have a guest room,” Elena said softly. “Stay. Rest. You can start searching tomorrow.”
Luca looked out at the lake. For the first time in fifteen years, he didn't have to look over his shoulder. He didn't have to wonder who was pouring his wine.
May you like
He finally had a family.
“I’d like that,” Luca whispered.
