Chapter 6
She nodded to one of the masked men.
He carried a small tablet to the edge of the stage. On its screen was a live video feed of Luca’s mansion gates. Another feed showed the Rossi casino. Another, the private dock. Another, the accounts office downtown.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
Valentina said, “Your city has been paying you for fear. Tonight, it pays me for pain.”
“What do you want?”
“Everything you took.”
“Money?”
“Confession.”
Luca stared at her.
Valentina stepped closer to Isabella. “In ten minutes, every screen in this city that your people control will broadcast you admitting what happened to my father. Names. Dates. Orders. The judges you bought. The police you fed. The men you buried in walls and water.”
Enzo shifted behind Luca.
Valentina noticed.
“Careful,” she said. “The theater is wired. One wrong move and this place becomes the fire people always thought killed me.”
Luca looked at Isabella.
Her eyes widened slightly.
She believed Valentina.
So did he.
“Let her leave first,” Luca said.
Valentina laughed. “Still making terms.”
“I’ll say whatever you want.”
“No,” Isabella said suddenly.
Everyone turned.
Her voice was weak, but clear. “No, Luca.”
His chest tightened. “Isabella—”
“She’ll kill you after,” Isabella said. “Or worse, she’ll let them tear you apart. You know that.”
Valentina leaned down near her ear. “And you care?”
Isabella’s eyes stayed on Luca.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Those four words entered him quietly and destroyed more than rage ever could.
Luca nodded once, accepting the wound.
Then he looked at Valentina.
“I’ll do it.”
Valentina studied him.
“You disappoint me,” she said. “I hoped you would fight longer.”
“I’m tired of fighting the wrong person.”
She gave the first real flicker of anger.
“Do not make yourself noble in my theater.”
“I’m not noble.”
“No,” she agreed. “You are a man who burned my life and then went home to be loved by someone kind.”
Luca’s face hardened. “Your father sold children through my docks.”
Valentina went still.
The silence that followed was not empty.
It was loaded.
Isabella’s gaze shifted to Valentina.
“What?” Valentina whispered.
Luca took one step forward.
“Carlo Moretti was not a martyr. He was not a businessman. He was not only my rival. He used the eastern warehouses to move people, not just weapons. I shut him down because he crossed a line even men like me do not cross.”
Valentina’s gun trembled.
“Liar.”
“Ask Marco.”
From behind Luca, Marco lifted his head.
Valentina looked toward him for the first time.
Her face changed.
Not surprise.
Pain.
“You,” she said.
Marco’s voice broke. “He’s telling the truth.”
“No.”
“I found the records after the fire,” Marco said. “Your father kept them hidden behind the theater office. Names. Payments. Buyers. I gave copies to Luca.”
Valentina’s breathing quickened. “You told me he killed my father for territory.”
“I told you what you needed to believe,” Marco said, tears rising in his eyes. “Because you were seventeen and alone, and I thought hatred would keep you alive.”
Valentina stared at him as if he had become a stranger wearing a familiar face.
“You raised me on revenge.”
Marco lowered his head. “Yes.”
“You made me into this.”
“Yes.”
The word echoed.
Then Valentina shot him.
Marco fell backward into the aisle.
Enzo lunged, but Luca caught his arm.
The theater exploded into motion.
The masked men raised their weapons.
Valentina turned the gun back toward Isabella, but her hand was no longer steady.
Luca moved.
Not toward Valentina.
Toward Isabella.
A masked man fired.
The bullet tore across Luca’s shoulder, spinning him halfway around, but he kept moving. He hit the stage hard, rolled behind a broken prop wall, and came up with the small blade hidden in his sleeve.
Isabella twisted against the ropes.
“Luca!”
Valentina screamed something, but her voice was swallowed by gunfire from the balcony.
Enzo’s men had entered.
The no-army rule was broken.
So was the theater.
Lights shattered. Dust rained from the ceiling. The old velvet curtains caught a spark and began to smoke. One masked man fell. The other dragged Valentina backward into the wings.
Luca cut Isabella’s ropes with shaking fingers.
His blood dripped onto her dress.
“You’re hit,” she said.
May you like
“I’ve had worse.”
“Don’t say that like I should be impressed.”
