Chapter 7
The grave was empty.
That was worse.
A stone slab beneath the council table carried one name.
MATTEO BELLACORTE.
No dates.
No body.
Rocco stared.
“He was buried at Saint Luke’s.”
August said nothing.
Rocco turned.
“Was he?”
“No.”
The word hollowed the room.
Bianca looked at him.
“You never saw your brother’s body?”
Rocco’s jaw tightened.
He had seen a burned body.
Face destroyed.
Ring on the hand.
Matteo’s chain.
Enough for a young man desperate for certainty.
Not enough now.
“Who was buried at Saint Luke’s?”
August answered:
“I don’t know.”
Rocco almost smiled.
“Your favorite answer.”
“It is true.”
“What happened to Matteo?”
August looked toward the empty grave.
“He survived Black Harbor.”
Silence.
Rocco’s breathing stopped.
“For how long?”
“Three days.”
Rocco crossed the room.
August did not retreat.
“Where?”
“Here.”
Rocco hit him.
Once.
The old man stumbled against the black table.
Nobody intervened.
Rocco grabbed his jacket.
“You kept my brother alive beneath my house.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Matteo knew too much.”
“About you.”
“About your father.”
Rocco stopped.
August continued.
“Carlo ordered Leonard’s father killed.”
“I know.”
“No.”
August wiped blood from his lip.
“You know the sentence.”
“You do not know why.”
Rocco released him.
“Speak.”
“Leonard’s father was selling family routes.”
“To who?”
“Thomas Hayes.”
Bianca stared.
“No.”
August looked at her.
“Your father was not innocent of everything.”
Her face hardened.
Rocco watched.
Important.
Truth rarely produced saints.
August continued.
“Thomas knew Leonard’s father was moving against Carlo.”
“Did Thomas betray us at Black Harbor?”
“No.”
Bianca closed her eyes.
There it was.
Not pure innocence.
But innocence of the crime Rocco killed him for.
“Then who?”
August answered:
“Me.”
Silence.
Rocco had expected it.
Hearing it was different.
“Why Matteo?”
“He was following me.”
“Why the harbor?”
“To remove him.”
“And Thomas?”
“Convenient.”
Bianca’s hand trembled.
August looked at her.
“I needed someone Rocco already distrusted.”
“You murdered my father.”
“I ordered his death.”
Rocco turned sharply.
“Not me?”
August smiled bitterly.
“You gave the order.”
“I gave it to you.”
“Yes.”
“You told me Thomas was being moved.”
“Yes.”
“You killed him before my men arrived.”
“Yes.”
Bianca looked at Rocco.
Both men now owned part of Thomas’s death.
No clean escape.
Rocco asked:
“What happened to Matteo after three days?”
August looked toward the empty grave.
“Leonard’s father’s people took him.”
Rocco frowned.
“He was already dead.”
“No.”
The old story cracked again.
“Carlo faked his brother’s death?”
August laughed softly.
“Your father learned from the best.”
Rocco felt cold.
“Where did they take Matteo?”
“I don’t know.”
“Leonard does.”
“Yes.”
Rocco finally understood why the grave was empty.
Why Leonard helped Elena find the room.
He had been searching for proof of where Matteo went.
Not just revenge.
Maybe something else.
Bianca whispered:
“Why did Leonard send me after Noah?”
August looked at her.
“He didn’t.”
She froze.
“What?”
“I did.”
“Clara heard a man with wolf cufflinks.”
August smiled.
“Leonard’s cufflinks were easy to copy.”
Bianca’s face changed.
“You made me think Leonard was involved.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep Rocco looking sideways.”
Rocco studied him.
“Then Leonard is not part of your coup.”
“No.”
“Victor?”
“Yes.”
“Frank?”
“Yes.”
“And who else?”
August looked at the ceiling.
“Enough.”
Rocco’s phone rang.
Leonard.
Rocco answered.
“Where are you?”
His cousin’s voice sounded breathless.
“Old Bellacorte chapel.”
“Why?”
“Frank ran here.”
“Alive?”
“Barely.”
Rocco’s eyes narrowed.
“What happened?”
“Someone got to him first.”
“Who?”
A pause.
“Matteo.”
Rocco stopped breathing.
“No.”
Leonard whispered:
“I saw him.”
The room disappeared around Rocco.
Twenty-two years.
His brother.
Alive.
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
“How do you know it was Matteo?”
“Because he called me by the name only he used when we were kids.”
Rocco stared at the empty grave.
“What name?”
Leonard answered.
“Little Wolf.”
Rocco closed his eyes.
Matteo had called Leonard that every summer when they were children.
Nobody else knew.
Then Leonard said:
“Rocco.”
“What?”
“He left a message.”
“Say it.”
“He said Noah is not in danger from August.”
Rocco looked toward the ceiling where his son slept.
“Then who?”
May you like
Leonard’s voice lowered.
“Matteo said the person who wants Noah has been living inside your house since before Elena died.”
