Chapter 9 - The Lion’s Den
The office in the crane tower was freezing, smelling of stale coffee and damp insulation.
Matteo sat at the glowing terminal, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard at terrifying speed.
Mia stood watch at the shattered window, her weapon resting against the frame, watching the harbor perimeter.
""I have it,"" Matteo said after three agonizing minutes.
""Every offshore transfer.""
""Every communication log between Marco and Gianni Ferretti.""
""The Ferrettis promised Marco forty percent of the coastal cargo operations once my father and I were eliminated.""
He pulled a heavy black flash drive from the port and shoved it into his inner pocket.
""This is enough to destroy Marco in every court in the country.""
""Courts don't mean anything to Lorenzo Duca,"" Mia said quietly.
""We both know that.""
""If we don't put this in your father's hands before Marco executes his final play, none of this matters.""
Matteo stood up, his jaw set in rigid determination.
""My father is currently at his private penthouse atop the Duca Tower.""
""He won't be at Blackwood Manor.""
""Whenever there is an assassination attempt, the protocol requires him to fortify the city stronghold.""
""And how do we get inside a fortified skyscraper surrounded by Lorenzo's army?"" Mia asked.
""We don't break in,"" Matteo said, meeting her eyes.
""We walk through the front door.""
An hour later, the black sedan they had commandeered from the pier pulled up to the curb outside Duca Tower on Fifth Avenue.
The entrance was barricaded by private tactical units wearing black armor with the Duca crest pinned to their lapels.
When Matteo stepped out of the vehicle, half a dozen rifles immediately swung toward his chest.
""Stand down!"" Matteo roared, his voice cutting through the morning traffic like a whip.
""I am Matteo Duca!""
""Lower your weapons before I have every single one of you stripped of your badges and buried in the marsh!""
The men hesitated, glancing nervously at one another.
Behind them, the glass lobby doors parted.
Captain Marco Silva stepped out, flanked by four elite operatives with submachine guns.
Marco’s face was pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and predatory fury.
""Matteo,"" Marco said smoothly, though his voice had an unstable edge.
""You're alive.""
""Thank God.""
""The girl abducted you, didn't she?""
""Drop your weapons, Callaway!"" Marco shouted, pointing toward Mia as she stepped out of the car.
""She's the assassin sent by the Ferrettis to finish the family!""
Mia didn't raise her hands.
She didn't reach for her gun.
She walked calmly toward the marble steps, stopping five paces from Marco’s polished leather shoes.
""Marco,"" she said, her voice completely even.
""You really should have changed your offshore routing password.""
""Using your daughter’s birthday was embarrassingly sentimental for a traitor.""
Marco’s hand twitched toward his hip holster.
""Shoot her!"" he commanded his men.
""That is an order from Don Lorenzo!""
""Nobody moves!""
A booming voice thundered through the lobby intercom, vibrating the plate-glass windows of the tower.
The secondary elevator doors had opened.
Lorenzo Duca walked out into the lobby.
He was flanked by eight veteran bodyguards who had served him since the early eighties.
The patriarch looked twenty years older than he had the day before.
His eyes were hollowed out by grief and rage, but the predatory stillness of his posture remained unbroken.
""Father,"" Matteo said, stepping past Marco’s men without a shred of hesitation.
Lorenzo’s gaze locked onto his son.
For a fraction of a second, the old man’s iron mask slipped, revealing a father who thought he had buried his final child.
Then his cold eyes shifted to Mia Callaway, and the frost returned.
""You brought her here, Matteo?"" Lorenzo asked softly.
""Marco informed me that she executed three of our men at the gala.""
""Marco lied to you, Father,"" Matteo said, pulling the black flash drive from his pocket.
""He has been draining three million dollars every week into Zurich.""
""He orchestrated the hit at the Saint Regis with the Ferretti family.""
""And if it weren't for Mia Callaway, you would be choosing a casket for me right now.""
Marco took a step back, his hand gripping the butt of his sidearm.
""Don Lorenzo, it’s a forgery!""
""The boy has been manipulated by this agency whore!""
""She's working with the rivals to turn us against each other!""
Lorenzo didn't look at Marco.
He didn't look at his son.
He walked down the marble steps until he was standing twelve inches away from Mia.
The old mafia king stared down at the young woman whose shoulder was soaked in blood.
""You think you can play games with my empire, girl?"" Lorenzo whispered.
Mia met his gaze without blinking.
""I don't play games, Don Lorenzo.""
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""I protect the client.""
""Even when the client’s father is too blind to see the viper sleeping in his own house.""
