Chapter 6 - The Confession of a Traitor
Vincent didn't flinch as Dominic raised the pistol, the black muzzle locking dead-center on the bridge of his nose.
“Well, Dominic,” Vincent said smoothly, leaning back against the edge of the desk and crossing his arms as if he were standing before a judge in a civil court. “I suppose congratulations are in order. I underestimated your little stray dog. I didn't think Leo had the tactical sense to orchestrate a honey-trap.”
“Ten years, Vincent,” Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly quiet, devoid of all human emotion. “Ten years I trusted you with my accounts, my secrets, my life. And you sold my daughter to the Morettis.”
“I didn't sell her to be killed, Dominic!” Vincent snapped, a sudden flash of genuine anger breaking through his cool facade. He pushed off the desk, taking a step forward despite the gun pointed at his head. “I sold her to teach you a lesson! You’ve grown soft, Dominic. Ever since your wife died, you’ve been trying to legitimize this syndicate, turning us into a bunch of corporate board-room cowards while our territory gets carved up by the Chicago PD and federal task forces!”
“So you put a six-year-old girl in a freezing alley to bleed to death?” Dominic’s voice rose, a thunderous roar that shook the dust from the ceiling rafters.
“That was Moretti’s men getting carried away,” Vincent spat, though there was a flicker of genuine guilt in his eyes. “I told them to grab her quietly, use her as leverage to force you to step down as head of the family. I never sanctioned violence against the child.”
“An executioner doesn't get to excuse the blade,” Dominic whispered coldly.
He cocked the hammer of his pistol. The metallic click was the loudest sound in the room.
“Wait,” I stepped forward, instinctively placing a hand on Dominic’s forearm.
Dominic’s eyes snapped to mine, wild and furious. “Move, Leo.”
“If you kill him right here, in the dark, it stays an internal execution,” I said quickly, keeping my voice steady. “The other capos won't know the truth. They’ll think you’re purging rivals to consolidate absolute power, and it will trigger an all-out civil war within the family. You need a public trial before the syndicate council. You need them to hear his confession.”
Dominic stared at me, his chest heaving as he fought the primal urge to pull the trigger. Slowly, the terrifying fury in his eyes receded, replaced by the calculating coldness of a mob boss who understood the broader board.
He lowered the pistol by a fraction of an inch, then looked back at Vincent.
“Marcus,” Dominic ordered without breaking eye contact with the traitor. “Take him to the holding cell in the lower bunker. Strip him of his comms, his keys, and his dignity. Tomorrow night, we call a sit-down with every captain in the syndicate.”
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As Marcus and the guards roughly handcuffed Vincent and dragged him screaming toward the door, Vincent glared back at me over his shoulder, his eyes filled with a venomous, undying hatred.
“You think you’ve won, Leo?” Vincent shouted as they hauled him down the corridor. “The Morettis aren't just coming for Lily—they’re coming for the whole damn estate! This war has only just begun!”
