Chapter 6 - BRUNO FINDS THE BLOOD
The elevator doors were closing when Bruno reached them.
He shoved his head between the panels.
They reopened.
I stepped inside with Tony and three men.
Bruno sniffed the floor.
Then the buttons.
Parking level three.
Tony pressed it.
“You think he can track Gabriel?”
“He knows his scent.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
That was becoming the most honest answer in my life.
The doors opened underground.
Bruno moved immediately.
Past concrete columns.
Past parked cars.
Toward the far stairwell.
There.
Gabriel’s phone lay shattered on the ground.
No Gabriel.
Bruno sniffed it.
Then moved toward the vehicle exit.
Tony cursed.
“They took him in a car.”
Bruno stopped beside an oil stain.
Sniffed.
Then another.
A trail.
Coolant.
Fresh droplets leading toward the ramp.
Tony crouched.
“Car’s leaking.”
I called my security center.
“Pull every camera within ten blocks. Vehicle exited the hospital garage within the last ten minutes. Look for coolant leak.”
“Working.”
We moved upstairs.
Three minutes later, a black van appeared on traffic footage.
Rear plate partially obscured.
Fluid dripping beneath it.
Heading west.
“Follow cameras.”
The city became a grid on the screen.
West.
Then south.
Then toward the river.
Tony looked at me.
“Mercer warehouse.”
Of course.
Where Elena had seen everything.
Where Aldo believed his secrets began.
Maybe he intended to end them there too.
We took two vehicles.
Bruno rode beside me.
The entire drive, he stared forward.
No barking.
No whining.
Pure concentration.
I thought about Elena in the hospital.
Seven years old.
Alive because a dog refused to accept what humans told him.
I thought about Gabriel.
A father who had spent months thinking I was extorting him.
Now trusting me to bring him back.
Life has a cruel sense of humor.
The warehouse stood near the river behind a rusted chain-link gate.
Dark.
Abandoned.
No visible guards.
Too easy.
Tony reached for the door handle.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Look.”
Coolant.
Drops glistening beneath a security light.
The van had entered.
I called Noah.
“Power?”
“Warehouse draws electricity despite being registered vacant.”
“Cameras?”
“Internal network, isolated.”
“Can you access it?”
“You ask the sweetest things.”
“Can you?”
“Give me thirty seconds.”
I stared at the building.
Bruno growled.
Noah came back.
“I see four cameras.”
“People?”
“One heat signature near the office. Three on the ground floor. Maybe more.”
“Gabriel?”
“No idea.”
Tony checked his weapon.
I looked at him.
“No shooting unless necessary.”
He blinked.
“We’re entering an armed warehouse.”
“And Gabriel is inside.”
“Understood.”
We moved.
I won’t describe every second.
Some memories don’t deserve repetition.
There was shouting.
Broken glass.
One man surrendered.
Another ran.
A third fired and missed.
My men answered.
Then silence.
Bruno found Gabriel.
Not us.
The dog sprinted toward a locked storage room and started clawing the door.
Tony kicked it open.
Gabriel lay tied to a chair.
Blood ran from a cut above his eye.
But he was conscious.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Still think I’m scary?”
He started laughing.
Then crying.
Tony cut him loose.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Who brought you?”
“Two men. I didn’t know them.”
“Did they say anything?”
“They kept asking where Elena put the recordings.”
“They know about the cards.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Gabriel looked at me.
“One of them said if Aldo found out Marco was still alive, everyone was dead.”
Interesting.
A gunshot cracked somewhere deep inside the warehouse.
Bruno turned.
So did I.
“Stay here.”
We moved toward the sound.
The office upstairs.
Door open.
A man lay unconscious near the desk.
Beside him—
Marco.
I froze.
He was supposed to be in my secure holding room across Manhattan.
His hands were zip-tied.
His mouth bloody.
But alive.
Tony stared.
“How the hell did you get here?”
Marco laughed weakly.
“Nice to see you too.”
I cut his restraints.
“Who moved you?”
“Your men.”
“What men?”
“They had credentials.”
“Names.”
“Didn’t know them.”
“Impossible.”
“They wore masks.”
“Then how did they enter the holding room?”
Marco looked at me.
“Victor.”
My attorney.
“He came in thirty minutes after you left. Said you ordered a transfer.”
“And the guards believed him?”
“He had your authorization code.”
Only five people knew my private command codes.
Me.
Tony.
Marco.
Victor.
And Aldo.
Apparently I had built my security around traitors.
Marco rubbed his wrists.
“They brought me here because Aldo wants to clean everything before Saturday.”
“Where is he?”
“Not here.”
I looked around the office.
Paper shredder.
Burn barrel.
Empty filing cabinets.
“They’re destroying evidence.”
Marco nodded.
“Not all of it.”
He pointed to a steel safe.
“Michael found that safe eleven years ago.”
My blood stopped.
“How do you know?”
“Because I was with him.”
Tony stared at Marco.
“What?”
Marco looked at me.
“I lied about more than Elena.”
I grabbed him.
“What happened to Michael?”
His eyes filled.
“I didn’t kill him.”
“You better choose the next words very carefully.”
“Aldo did.”
The world narrowed.
Marco continued quickly.
“Michael discovered the false collections years ago. Smaller back then. He traced money to offshore accounts controlled by Aldo and Victor.”
“You knew?”
“Michael came to me.”
“Why?”
“He trusted me.”
“Big mistake.”
“Yes.”
I released him.
“What happened?”
“He wanted to tell you.”
“Then why didn’t he?”
“Aldo found out.”
I felt sick.
The official story returned.
Michael had arranged a meeting with me.
Never arrived.
His car was found near Newark.
Ambush.
Three dead.
Evidence blamed the Calderon crew.
I retaliated.
Six months of blood followed.
Men died because I believed another organization murdered my cousin.
Marco whispered, “Aldo gave the Calderons information about a shipment, then put Michael in that convoy.”
“So they would attack it.”
“Yes.”
“And we’d believe Michael died in an enemy ambush.”
“Yes.”
I turned away.
Tony said nothing.
No one did.
I had killed men after Michael died.
Some guilty.
Some probably not.
All because Aldo built a lie and I fed it blood.
“Open the safe.”
Marco hesitated.
“Code was Michael’s birthday.”
I entered it.
The lock clicked.
Inside were three ledgers.
Old.
Handwritten.
Photographs.
Bank transfers.
And an envelope.
My name written across it.
In Michael’s handwriting.
My knees nearly failed.
I opened it.
Luca,
If you’re reading this, I didn’t get the chance to tell you myself.
I stopped.
Couldn’t continue.
Tony looked away.
I forced myself.
Someone inside the family is stealing from people under your protection. Aldo is involved. Victor helps him move the money. I don’t know how deep it goes.
You’ll want to react immediately. Don’t. That temper will get you killed.
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Michael always knew me.
The most important thing isn’t the money. They are using your name to create enemies around you. When enough people hate you, they won’t need to pull the trigger themselves.
If anything happens to me, trust the evidence, not the story they give you.
At the bottom:
And Luca—Bruno is probably smarter than both of us. Listen to the dog.
I laughed.
One broken sound.
Bruno looked up.
Michael had met Bruno only a few months before he died.
Loved him immediately.
I folded the letter.
Then heard tires outside.
Tony moved to a window.
“Vehicles.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
Marco went pale.
“That’s not ours.”
Headlights flooded the warehouse.
Dozens of men surrounded the building.
Then a voice came through an outdoor speaker.
Aldo.
“Luca.”
My uncle sounded almost sad.
“You were always too curious.”
Tony looked at me.
Marco whispered, “He knows.”
Aldo continued.
“Send Marco and the evidence outside. You can leave with Vasquez.”
I stepped toward the window.
“You planning to shoot your nephew in the back?”
His voice came through again.
“You’re making this emotional.”
“You murdered Michael.”
Silence.
There.
For the first time, Aldo had nothing prepared.
Then he answered.
“Michael made a choice.”
“So did Elena.”
“Children shouldn’t play with adult secrets.”
Bruno growled.
My hand rested on his head.
“No,” I said. “Adults shouldn’t try to bury children.”
Aldo’s voice hardened.
“You have five minutes.”
Tony looked around.
“Back exit?”
“Covered.”
“Roof?”
“Probably.”
Marco stared at the old ledgers.
“They’ll burn this place.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel appeared at the office door.
“What happens now?”
I looked at the terrified restaurant owner.
At Marco.
At Tony.
At Bruno.
At Michael’s letter.
For most of my life, when trapped, I relied on violence.
This time, violence was what Aldo expected.
So I smiled.
“We do something my uncle has never seen me do.”
Tony raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
I pulled out my phone.
“We call the police.”
Marco stared.
“Police?”
“Not Kane’s people.”
I dialed a number I had never expected to use.
Federal Special Agent Sarah Cole had been trying to put me in prison for nine years.
She answered on the second ring.
“Moretti?”
“Agent Cole.”
“If this is a joke—”
“I have evidence connecting Deputy Commissioner Harold Kane, Victor Hale, and Aldo Moretti to extortion, attempted murder, corruption, and an eleven-year-old homicide.”
Silence.
Then:
“Where are you?”
I looked through the window at the armed men surrounding us.
“At the Mercer warehouse.”
A beat.
“That building is currently surrounded.”
“I noticed.”
“By men?”
“Yes.”
“Armed?”
“Very.”
Another pause.
“Luca, are you asking the FBI to save you?”
I looked at Bruno.
“No.”
I looked at Michael’s letter.
“I’m asking you to save the evidence.”
Outside, Aldo began counting down.
May you like
And somewhere in the distance—
Sirens started screaming.
