Chapter 4: The Traitor at the Table
Vittorio Marino removed his gloves as though he were arriving for dinner rather than walking into a house where three men had just died.
He was sixty-two, silver-haired, broad-shouldered, and dressed in an immaculate charcoal coat. He had taught Enzo to shoot. He had stood beside the DeLuca family at Nathan’s funeral.
He had even carried one corner of the coffin.
“Terrible night for a wedding,” Vittorio said.
Enzo stood at the end of the dining table.
“Why are you here?”
“Preston contacted me. He claims his daughter stole sensitive financial records.”
“Did he mention sending men to kill her?”
Vittorio’s expression barely changed.
“He said Harper is unstable.”
Enzo smiled without warmth.
“Men love that word when women remember what they’ve done.”
Vittorio’s eyes sharpened.
“You’re defending her now?”
“I’m asking questions.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Luca entered and stood near Enzo’s right shoulder. His face had been bandaged, but he remained pale from blood loss.
Vittorio looked at his nephew.
“You should be resting.”
“I’m where I belong.”
“Are you?”
The question carried more weight than it should have.
Enzo watched both men carefully.
“Pike mentioned Nathan before someone shot him,” Enzo said.
Vittorio poured himself whiskey.
“Pike was a hired animal.”
“He said someone inside my family helped Preston.”
“And you believed him?”
“I believe the bullet that stopped him from finishing.”
Vittorio took a slow drink.
“Grief is dangerous, Enzo. It makes men search for betrayal where none exists.”
“Sometimes it blinds them to betrayal standing in front of them.”
The room went still.
Vittorio set down the glass.
“Be careful.”
“No. You be careful.”
Enzo placed a folder on the table.
It contained harmless shipping records—bait prepared minutes earlier.
Vittorio’s eyes flickered toward it.
There.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But Enzo saw it.
“Preston claims Harper stole records,” Enzo said. “Are these what he wants?”
Vittorio did not touch the folder.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You looked like you did.”
“I looked because you placed something on the table.”
Enzo stepped closer.
“Did you sell Nathan’s route to Preston?”
Luca drew a sharp breath.
Vittorio’s face became stone.
“Nathan was reckless.”
“That isn’t a denial.”
“He endangered everyone.”
“What did you do?”
“I protected the family.”
Enzo’s hand closed around the edge of the table.
“By murdering my brother?”
Vittorio slammed his palm against the wood.
“Your brother was going to federal agents!”
“He was exposing Preston.”
“He was exposing all of us!”
“Then you should have come to me.”
“You were drowning in blood and ambition. Nathan was weak. He wanted to turn the DeLucas into businessmen.”
“He wanted us to survive.”
Vittorio leaned forward.
“He would have destroyed everything your father built.”
Enzo’s voice dropped.
“So you had him killed.”
Luca pulled his gun.
Not on Vittorio.
On Enzo.
The muzzle pressed beneath Enzo’s ribs.
For one second, no one moved.
Enzo turned his head slowly.
Luca’s eyes were full of shame.
“I’m sorry, boss.”
Vittorio smiled.
“My nephew understands loyalty.”
Enzo looked at the man who had stood beside him through funerals, wars, and blood-soaked nights.
“Did you know about Nathan?”
Luca swallowed.
“Not until after.”
“And you still protected him?”
“He’s my family.”
“So was Nathan.”
Vittorio picked up Enzo’s gun from the table.
“Where is the memory card?”
Enzo said nothing.
Vittorio’s smile vanished.
“Harper has it, doesn’t she?”
A woman’s voice came from the doorway.
“No.”
Harper stood there in a black robe, holding the pistol Enzo had given her.
“I do.”
Vittorio aimed at her.
May you like
Enzo moved first.
The dining room erupted in gunfire.
