Chapter 7 - Blood and Confessions
Ten minutes later, the emergency elevator chime signaled the arrival of Dimitri and four heavily armed guards. The cleanup was swift, practiced, and silent. Bodies were wrapped in heavy canvas and removed down the freight elevator; the broken glass was swept away, and the air filtration system slowly cleared the acrid tang of cordite and copper.
Dimitri stepped up to Marius, holding a bloody cell phone sealed in an evidence bag.
""We took Santini alive at the harbor,"" Dimitri stated, wiping grease from his forehead. ""He broke after three minutes. Moretti is waiting on his yacht off the coast of Capri, expecting the transfer team in two hours. He has no idea the assault failed.""
Marius looked at the phone, then turned his gaze back to where I sat wrapped in a heavy wool blanket by the fireplace. A medic had checked me for shock, but I had refused the sedative. I wanted my mind clear. I needed to see this through to the end.
""Get the gunboat ready,"" Marius told Dimitri. ""We leave in twenty minutes.""
""I'm coming with you,"" I said, standing up and letting the blanket fall to the hearth.
Marius’s jaw tightened. ""Elena, you’ve seen enough tonight. You will stay here under full lockdown.""
""No,"" I countered, walking over to him, my voice carrying the unshakeable steel I had used for three years to manage his multi-million dollar deals. ""Moretti used me as bait to get to you. He used my name, my personal life, and my vulnerability to breach your home. I am not sitting in an ivory tower waiting for news like a frightened mistress. You told me I belong to you. If that is true, then your war is my war.""
Marius stared at me, his eyes searching my face for any hint of hesitation or regret. He saw none. A slow, dark pride bloomed across his features, transforming the cold don into something magnificent and terrifying.
""Dimitri,"" Marius said without breaking eye contact with me. ""Bring her a Kevlar vest and black tactical gear. She rides on the command boat.""
""Understood, boss.""
Thirty minutes later, we were slicing through the pitch-black waters of the Gulf of Naples at forty knots aboard a sleek, radar-absorbent interceptor vessel. The cold sea spray whipped against my face, clearing the last remnants of shock from my veins. Beside me, Marius stood at the helm, night-vision binoculars raised, his expression carved from dark granite.
Ahead, anchored in the misty shadow of the Faraglioni rocks of Capri, sat the hundred-foot luxury yacht belonging to Leonardo Moretti. The vessel was lit up like a floating palace, oblivious to the black shapes converging upon it from the darkness.
Marius lowered the binoculars and reached down, his leather-gloved hand taking mine, squeezing it tight. ""When we board, you stay behind Dimitri on the main deck. You don't speak, you don't negotiate. Tonight, Moretti learns what happens when someone attempts to touch what is mine.""
""I won't look away,"" I promised, squeezing his hand in return.
May you like
""I know you won't,"" he murmured, leaning down to press a fierce kiss to my temple. ""That is why you were made for this throne.""
The interceptor cut its engines, drifting silently into the yacht’s blind spot under the cover of the roaring surf. The grappling hooks launched with quiet pneumatic hisses, securing our lines to the teak railing above. The hunt had ended; the reckoning had begun.
