Chapter 6 - The Weight of a Name
I leaned into my brother’s chest. The scent of rain, cedar, and tobacco on Dominic’s dark overcoat wrapped around me, pulling me out of the suffocating heat of the ballroom.
Careful not to press against the raw, open wounds on my back, Dominic held me gently, his large hand cupping the back of my head. Over his shoulder, I saw Matteo step up to my right side, while Nico quietly slipped behind me, placing himself between my exposed back and the staring eyes of fifty socialites.
The ballroom was as silent as a tomb.
"Look at her wrists," Matteo said, his voice dropping into a register so low and resonant it seemed to vibrate through the marble under our feet.
Gabriel adjusted his glasses, his fingers flying across the surface of his tablet. "Four minutes ago, the estate's internal security network recorded a brief spike in the ballroom's surveillance feed. The local cloud storage was deleted from their server room." Gabriel paused, looking up with cold, dark eyes. "I just pulled the raw video back from their backup node. I have all thirty strikes in high definition."
Adrian took a hesitant step forward, trying to rebuild his crumbling authority. "Listen here! I don't know who you think you are, breaking into my private residence with armed guards, but this is a domestic matter! My wife embarrassed my family, and—"
Dominic didn't even turn his head. He simply lifted one hand slightly.
Matteo moved.
He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't shout. He simply closed the ten-foot distance between himself and Adrian in two smooth, predatory strides. Before Adrian’s personal security guard could react, Matteo gripped the guard’s throat with one hand, shoving him effortlessly into the marble pillar, while his other hand clamped around Adrian’s jaw.
Adrian let out a choked gasp, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated terror as Matteo leaned in until their noses almost touched.
"Speak to my brother again with that tone," Matteo whispered, "and I will tear your tongue out of your head before your father can draw his next breath."
"Stop! Unhand him!" Margaret screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria. "Richard, call the Chief of Police! Call him right now!"
Richard Cole frantically pulled his cell phone from his tuxedo jacket.
May you like
Luca, standing near the champagne tower, casually unbuttoned his coat and pulled out a leather folder. "Don't bother, Mr. Cole. Chief Henderson retired forty-five minutes ago following an emergency investigation into his offshore accounts in the Caymans. His successor, Acting Chief Vance, happens to be a former senior investigator at Dominic's firm. If you dial 911, the units dispatched will be ours."
Richard’s hand froze over his phone. The color drained completely from his face.
