Chapter 1 - The Ghost From The Past
Vincent staggered backward into the wall of the hospital surveillance room.
His eyes were wide, veins bulging along his neck as his knuckles turned white against the edge of the control console.
"Boss?" Marco asked, his hand dropping instinctively toward his holstered weapon. "Who is that man? Do we put a contract on him?"
Vincent didn't answer for several agonizing seconds.
His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his gaze fixed on the frozen frame of the security monitor.
The man holding Claire's hand was tall, broad-shouldered, with a jagged scar running along his jawline and piercing dark eyes that stared directly into the camera lens.
"That's my brother," Vincent choked out, his voice barely a rasp.
Marco flinched, stepping back in utter disbelief. "Dante Moretti? But boss... Dante died four years ago in the warehouse explosion in Palermo."
"We never found his body," Vincent whispered, a cold terror gripping his spine.
"We found his signet ring in the ashes, and we buried an empty mahogany casket in the family crypt."
The footage replayed automatically on the high-definition display.
Dante carefully wrapped a soft wool blanket around Claire’s shoulders, shielding her bandaged arms and fractured leg as he lifted her into the reinforced black SUV.
He moved with the effortless precision of a man who commanded legions in the shadows.
Before ducking into the passenger side, Dante looked directly up at the wall-mounted hospital camera, raised his right hand, and formed a mock salute.
On his middle finger gleamed the Moretti family patriarch crest—the original ring that their father had bestowed upon the true firstborn son.
"He took her," Vincent snarled, smashing his fist into the glass monitor, sending spiderweb fractures across the screen.
"He didn't just survive. He came back to take my wife from under my nose."
"Sir, your wife signed the emergency release forms willingly," Marco noted cautiously.
"Her attorney, Madison Parker, filed full civil restraining orders with the federal district court thirty minutes ago."
Vincent tore open the collar of his shirt, suffocating beneath the sudden realization of his complete ruin.
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"Lock down every airstrip in Illinois," Vincent ordered, his eyes bloodshot with frantic fury.
"Check every toll plaza, every private hangar, and every maritime dock along the lake. Bring me my wife, and bring me my brother's head."
