Chapter 8 - MIDNIGHT AT THE SOCIAL CLUB
The old Moretti social club had not hosted a celebration in twelve years.
By eleven forty-five, rain covered its boarded windows and dark brick walls.
The neighborhood around it had changed.
Luxury apartments had replaced butcher shops.
Coffee bars had replaced betting rooms.
But the social club remained.
A stubborn piece of Moretti history nobody had been brave enough to tear down.
Rico watched it from the back of a rented van across the street.
The flash drive in his pocket was fake.
The real one remained hidden beneath Miriam’s basement floorboards.
Dante sat beside him.
Luca checked a pistol magazine.
Clara was supposed to be at the house with Leo.
That was the agreement.
Rico had made it clear.
Clara had argued.
He had ignored her.
For once, she had obeyed.
Or so he believed.
Dante looked at his watch.
“Eleven fifty-eight.”
Rico checked the rooftop across from the club.
Two Moretti men loyal to him were in position.
Only two.
Dante had insisted on keeping the team small.
If Elena was right, they did not know who inside the family could be trusted.
Luca looked at Rico.
“If Sal has Mom inside, he’ll use her.”
“I know.”
“He’ll expect you to lose control.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t.”
Rico looked at his brother.
“You’ve spent your whole life telling me to lose control.”
Luca smiled faintly.
“Maybe I’m growing.”
They crossed the street at midnight.
The social club door opened before they knocked.
Vincent Bellini stood inside.
Rico’s consigliere had served the family for twenty-two years.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
Calm expression.
A black onyx Moretti ring sat on his right hand.
Rico’s eyes went immediately to Vincent’s ear.
A scar ran behind it.
Thin.
White.
Half hidden by his hair.
Rico stopped walking.
Clara’s description echoed in his mind.
The man at the hospital had a scar behind his right ear.
Vincent smiled.
“Something wrong?”
Rico forced his face still.
“No.”
“Salvatore is waiting.”
Vincent stepped aside.
Rico entered.
Dante and Luca followed.
Vincent looked at Dante.
“No weapons.”
Dante laughed.
“You first.”
Vincent’s smile vanished.
Salvatore’s voice came from the back room.
“Let them keep the guns.”
The room opened around an old card table.
Salvatore Moretti sat at the head.
He was sixty-four.
Thick gray hair.
Dark suit.
An expression of patient disappointment.
Rico’s mother, Sofia, sat beside him.
Her hands were tied in front of her.
A bruise darkened her cheek.
Rico’s vision turned red.
“Mom.”
Sofia shook her head quickly.
“I’m okay.”
Salvatore smiled.
“She always was dramatic.”
Rico drew his gun.
Dante did the same.
Vincent closed the door behind them.
Salvatore did not move.
“You shoot me, your mother dies before I hit the floor.”
Rico looked around.
A laser dot rested on Sofia’s chest.
Sniper.
Dante saw it too.
His eyes moved toward the high window.
Salvatore extended his hand.
“The drive.”
Rico removed the fake flash drive.
Salvatore smiled.
“Put it on the table.”
Rico did.
Vincent picked it up.
He inserted it into a laptop.
Rico watched his face.
Vincent had the scar.
Rico wanted to ask immediately.
Instead, he waited.
The laptop displayed encrypted folders copied from Elena’s drive.
Dante had created the decoy carefully.
Vincent nodded.
“It looks real.”
Salvatore leaned back.
“Of course it does.”
He looked at Rico.
“My nephew is many things.”
“Stupid is not one of them.”
Rico’s voice was flat.
“Let my mother go.”
“When I verify the files.”
“You wanted the drive.”
“You have it.”
“I also want Clara.”
Rico’s expression did not change.
“No.”
Salvatore smiled.
“There he is.”
“The romantic.”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with it.”
Salvatore looked at Luca.
“You boys always underestimate women.”
“Your father did too.”
Rico’s eyes hardened.
“What did you do to Elena?”
Salvatore’s smile disappeared.
“I warned her.”
“About what?”
“Curiosity.”
Rico lifted his gun slightly.
“Wrong answer.”
Salvatore sighed.
“You think this is a family argument.”
“It isn’t.”
“You think I am the monster at the top of the staircase.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m the man standing on the staircase trying to keep all of you from falling off.”
Luca laughed.
“You had Elena shot.”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Rico stared at him.
Salvatore continued.
“I gave her location to Vincent.”
Every eye turned toward the consigliere.
Vincent did not react.
Rico’s gun shifted.
Salvatore raised one finger.
“I did not know he intended to kill her.”
Vincent smiled faintly.
“You knew enough.”
Salvatore’s expression darkened.
Rico stared at Vincent.
“You were at St. Vincent’s.”
Vincent looked at him.
“I’ve been to St. Vincent’s many times.”
“You have a scar behind your ear.”
Vincent touched it.
For the first time, his composure slipped.
Rico stepped closer.
“Clara saw you.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Clara remembers more than she should.”
That was enough.
Rico fired.
The bullet struck the floor beside Vincent’s shoe.
Sofia screamed.
The laser dot on her chest shifted.
Dante immediately lowered his weapon.
“Rico.”
Rico’s voice shook with rage.
“Tell me what happened to my wife.”
Vincent looked at Salvatore.
Salvatore said nothing.
Then Vincent smiled.
“She asked the same question about her mother.”
Rico took another step.
“Where is Elena?”
Vincent’s smile widened.
“You buried her.”
Rico’s chest tightened.
“Did I?”
For the first time, Vincent’s smile disappeared.
Rico knew he had hit something.
Before anyone could speak, a side door opened.
Clara walked in.
Rico spun around.
“What are you doing here?”
She ignored him.
Leo was not with her.
In her hand was the real flash drive.
Dante stared.
“Clara.”
Rico’s face filled with fury.
“I told you to stay with Leo.”
“He’s safe with Miriam.”
Salvatore smiled.
“There she is.”
Clara walked toward the table.
Vincent watched her carefully.
She placed the drive down.
“I want my father.”
Salvatore’s expression changed.
Rico looked at her.
“What?”
Clara faced Salvatore.
“You know where Daniel Vance is.”
Salvatore leaned back.
“Maybe.”
“You give me my father, you get the real drive.”
Rico grabbed her arm.
“Are you insane?”
Clara pulled free.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I’m tired of everyone deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
Salvatore gave a slow clap.
“Elena chose well.”
Clara looked back at him.
“Where is he?”
Salvatore studied her.
Then he pointed toward Vincent.
“Ask him.”
Vincent’s face went still.
Clara turned.
Vincent did not blink.
“You want your father?”
“Yes.”
Vincent reached into his pocket.
Rico raised his gun.
Vincent slowly removed a phone.
He tapped the screen.
A live video appeared.
An older man sat strapped to a chair in a white room.
His hair was gray.
His face was thin.
But Clara recognized him immediately.
Her knees almost gave out.
“Dad.”
Before entering the social club, Rico made Clara repeat the escape plan twice.
She hated every second of it.
“I know how doors work,” she said.
“This isn't about doors.”
“It sounds a lot like doors.”
“If anything changes, you leave.”
Clara folded her arms.
“You don't get to order me.”
Rico looked at her.
“In my world, I do.”
“That's the problem with your world.”
Luca coughed to hide a laugh.
Rico ignored him.
“Elena trusted you because you were outside the family.”
“Yes.”
“Then stay outside the line of fire.”
Clara's expression changed slightly.
The sentence carried more concern than command.
She noticed.
“So this is concern now?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Dante looked away, wisely refusing to participate.
Clara checked the small recorder tucked inside her apron pocket.
Rico saw it.
“What is that?”
“Insurance.”
“You're recording us?”
“I'm recording everyone.”
Rico raised an eyebrow.
“Elena taught you that?”
“My father did.”
The answer silenced him.
Clara continued.
“He used to tell me that memory is fragile when powerful people repeat the same lie long enough.”
“So he recorded conversations.”
“When he could.”
“And you kept the habit.”
“Yes.”
Rico looked at the recorder again.
“Keep it running.”
Clara smiled faintly.
“I planned to.”
Inside the club, memories hit Rico before Salvatore appeared.
His father had brought him there at thirteen.
Antonio had seated him at the card table and told him to watch men more carefully than he listened to them.
“Words are cheap,” his father had said.
“Hands tell you what a man is afraid of losing.”
Now Rico watched Salvatore's hands.
His uncle kept one palm flat on the table.
The other rested near his jacket.
Not fear.
Preparation.
Vincent's hands were different.
His fingers tapped once against his phone whenever Clara spoke.
A signal.
Rico noticed.
He glanced toward Dante.
Dante had noticed too.
The room contained another listener.
Someone receiving updates.
When Clara entered unexpectedly with the real drive, Rico's anger was partly real and partly performance.
He needed Vincent to believe the plan had broken.
Clara understood the instant their eyes met.
She did not apologize.
Good.
She placed the drive on the table and demanded Daniel.
Vincent reached for his phone.
Rico watched the tapping stop.
Whoever had been listening no longer needed coded updates.
The next stage had begun.
Rico realized then that Salvatore was not controlling the room.
Vincent was not controlling it either.
Someone outside the building was watching both men.
And for the first time, Rico understood the shape of the enemy Elena had been trying to describe.
Not a boss.
A system.
Daniel Vance lifted his head toward the camera.
His eyes were cloudy.
Then they sharpened.
He looked straight into the lens.
“Clara?”
She covered her mouth.
Rico stared at the screen.
Daniel looked around the room as if confused.
Then he whispered something no one expected.
May you like
“Don’t trust Rico’s mother.”
