Chapter 10
The absolute, devastating truth had finally been dragged into the bright, cinematic light. Rocco stood in the center of the museum, his tailored dark three-piece suit unwrinkled, his breathing slow and perfectly controlled. His mind, honed by decades of warfare, rapidly adjusted to the new tactical reality. The federal raid was coming tomorrow. He had less than twelve hours to extract the planted ledger from his safe, destroy it, and neutralize the threat.
But first, he had to deliver judgment upon the architects of his attempted demise.
Rocco slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, exposing the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt. He looked down at Celeste, who was sobbing into the carpet among the magnetic tiles. He looked at his cousin Adrian, bleeding onto the foam planets of the kinetic display.
"You sought to steal my empire," Rocco said, his deep, raspy voice echoing with a chilling, absolute finality. "You sought to send me to a cage. But your greatest sin was plunging my daughter into darkness to cover your tracks."
"Rocco, please, I can fix this!" Adrian begged, his bravado finally breaking as the reality of his execution loomed. "I can call the feds off! I have a contact on the inside! Just let me make a call!"
"You will never make a call again," Rocco promised softly.
He turned his attention to his lead capos, the hardened men who ran the streets of Boston.
"Marcus. Silas," Rocco commanded, his voice ringing with lethal authority.
Two massive, broad-shouldered bodyguards stepped forward instantly. "Yes, Boss."
"Bind them. Zip-tie their wrists and ankles," Rocco ordered, his cold eyes never leaving the traitors. "Take them to the warehouse in the meatpacking district. Hang them by chains. They are not to be killed until I arrive to handle the interrogation personally. I want every name associated with this coup."
"With pleasure, Boss," Silas growled.
The bodyguards moved with brutal, terrifying efficiency. They hauled the screaming, thrashing Celeste and the groaning, defeated Adrian off the carpet, dragging them away from the bright, vivid colors of the exhibit hall and out through a secure service exit. Their cries faded into the distance, leaving the museum in a heavy, awestruck silence.
Rocco stood alone for a moment, adjusting the heavy signet ring on his finger. The internal threat was neutralized, but the clock was ticking. He had a federal raid to thwart and a syndicate to purge.
He turned and walked toward the secure corridor where his daughter was waiting. The heavy glass doors swung open, and Elias stepped out, holding Mia’s hand. The four-year-old was happily eating a cup of strawberry ice cream, her spare glasses perched securely on her nose.
When she saw her father, her face lit up with a brilliant smile. "Daddy!"
Rocco knelt down, opening his arms, catching her as she ran to him. He hugged her fiercely, burying his face in her hair. She had saved his life, his empire, and his freedom, simply by refusing to keep her eyes shut.
"Are we going home now, Daddy?" Mia asked, offering him a spoonful of ice cream.
May you like
"Yes, my little bird," Rocco murmured, standing up and lifting her effortlessly into his strong arms. He looked over her shoulder, his eyes locking with his underboss, a dark, terrifying promise burning in his gaze. "We are going home. I have a fire to start."
The screen faded to black, the impending roar of the mafia war echoing in the silence.
