Chapter 2 - The Echo of the Old Life
By midnight, Lucas could no longer ignore the pull of the past. He left a note for Sarah on her nightstand, claiming he had an early morning meeting in the city regarding the estate’s land deeds, and slipped out into the cold, drizzling rain.
He drove his dark SUV, avoiding the highway and taking the back roads toward the ferry. Crossing the water back toward Connecticut felt like descending into purgatory. The bright, clean air of Long Island was replaced by the gray, industrial fog of Bridgeport.
He parked three blocks away from the address on the note. It was a crumbling, abandoned warehouse near the harbor—a relic of the Moretti family's old smuggling route. Lucas slipped a sleek, black semi-automatic pistol from the glove compartment, checking the chamber before tucking it into his waistband. The weight of the weapon felt foreign, yet terrifyingly familiar.
The warehouse door was unlocked. It creaked open, revealing a cavernous space filled with rusted machinery and the damp smell of stagnant seawater.
"I knew you'd come," a raspy voice called out from the shadows.
Lucas raised his weapon, his eyes adapting to the gloom. A figure stepped into the pale beam of a streetlamp shining through a broken window. It was Marcus Moretti, Lucas's uncle—a man who was supposed to be serving a life sentence in a federal penitentiary.
Marcus looked older, his hair completely white, but his eyes still held the cold, calculating cruelty that had defined the Moretti syndicate for decades.
"Marcus," Lucas said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "You're supposed to be behind bars."
"The law is a flexible thing for those with the right leverage, nephew," Marcus sneered, taking a step closer. "You thought you could just walk away? Take the family wealth, play house on Long Island with a broken-down pianist and her sick kid, and leave the rest of us to rot?"
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"The money I took was mine, earned through my own blood," Lucas said, his grip on the gun tightening. "And the syndicate is dead. I ended it."
"You amputated the head, Lucas. But the body is still twitching," Marcus whispered, a dark smile spreading across his face. "And now, I've come to collect the debt. You're going to help me rebuild. Or I will tear down your beautiful little glass castle, piece by piece."
