Chapter 8 - THE RIGHT HAND
The brass key opened a locker at the Bellucci estate.
That was the part Carmine could not forgive.
Not an old warehouse.
Not a train station.
Not somewhere across the city.
His home.
The locker stood inside a private security room beneath the west wing.
Only senior staff had access.
Anthony.
Salvatore.
Carmine.
And until his death, Dominic Valli.
The key had been cut years earlier.
Inside the locker was one object.
A small voice recorder.
Carmine pressed play.
Dominic’s voice filled the room.
“If you’re hearing this, then either Vittorio came back or Rosalie failed.”
Anthony stood beside Carmine.
Neither spoke.
Dominic continued.
“Carmine will think betrayal means one man. It doesn’t.”
Static.
“The Second House works because every member knows only two others.”
Carmine’s eyes narrowed.
A structure without a center.
Harder to kill.
Harder to expose.
“Giancarlo built it. Vittorio tried to take it. After both were gone, men kept using pieces.”
Dominic coughed.
His recorded voice sounded tired.
“I joined because I believed I could keep Carmine’s enemies away from him.”
Anthony whispered, “Everyone says protection.”
Carmine heard.
He did not disagree.
Dominic continued.
“Then Rosalie started asking questions.”
A long pause.
“I warned her.”
Carmine’s jaw tightened.
“I also warned whoever was following her that if she was touched, I would expose them.”
Another pause.
“I was too late.”
Carmine closed his eyes.
Dominic had not ordered the ambush.
At least according to Dominic.
But he had known enough to warn someone.
That meant names existed.
The recording continued.
“If Carmine wants the truth, he needs the black room under Vittorio’s old house.”
Then Dominic said:
“Do not trust Anthony with the location.”
The recording ended.
Carmine slowly looked toward his oldest bodyguard.
Anthony’s face had gone pale.
Neither moved.
Carmine finally spoke.
“Explain.”
“I can’t.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I don’t know why he said that.”
Carmine stepped closer.
“You’ve been beside me since I was twenty-six.”
“Yes.”
“You carried Leo out of the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“You stood with me when Rosalie vanished.”
“Yes.”
“And Dominic leaves a message saying I shouldn’t trust you.”
Anthony’s eyes hardened.
“Then don’t.”
Carmine almost smiled.
“That simple?”
“No.”
Anthony removed his weapon.
Placed it on the table.
Then his phone.
Then his knife.
“I kept things from you.”
Carmine stared.
“What?”
“Helena.”
The room became colder.
“You knew?”
“Not the extent.”
“How much?”
“I knew she had moved Leo downstairs.”
Carmine’s face changed.
Anthony continued quickly.
“She told me the boy was having sleep problems. She said Nora recommended fewer distractions.”
“You believed her.”
“At first.”
“And when?”
“I saw him cleaning the hallway last week.”
Carmine walked toward him.
Anthony did not move.
“You saw my son working.”
“Yes.”
“And said nothing.”
“I told Helena to stop.”
“You told her.”
“Yes.”
“You did not tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Anthony swallowed.
“You were in Chicago. The truce was close to collapsing. I thought I could handle it here.”
Carmine laughed.
The sound was empty.
“You decided what I needed to know.”
“Yes.”
“For my protection.”
Anthony closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Carmine hit him.
One punch.
Anthony staggered.
Carmine hit him again.
Then stopped.
He looked at his own hand.
Every time someone failed him, the old response arrived instantly.
Pain.
Punishment.
Control.
Carmine stepped back.
“You’re no longer my right hand.”
Anthony wiped blood from his mouth.
“I understand.”
“You keep your rank until Leo is safe because I need men who know this estate.”
Anthony nodded.
“After?”
“We decide after.”
Carmine took his weapon from the table.
Handed it back.
Anthony stared.
“You trust me with this?”
“No.”
Carmine looked at him.
“I trust what you choose to do while knowing I don’t trust you.”
That hurt Anthony more than the punches.
Carmine walked toward the door.
“Find Vittorio’s old house.”
Anthony followed.
“You think Dominic’s black room is real?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Carmine stopped.
“Because Rosalie used to call a place black when it had no windows.”
Anthony frowned.
“She knew?”
“She once asked me whether Vittorio owned a house with a room that had no windows.”
“When?”
“One month before she disappeared.”
Carmine had laughed then.
Told her she watched too many old movies.
Another memory returning with teeth.
They searched through old property knowledge, not records.
Drivers.
Retired guards.
A former cook.
An old Bellucci mechanic who remembered delivering a generator to Vittorio one winter.
By midnight they had a location.
An abandoned hunting property near the Catskills.
No one had used it openly in twenty years.
Carmine prepared to leave.
Then Leo appeared at the top of the stairs.
Barefoot.
Holding his blanket.
Carmine stopped.
“Why are you awake?”
Leo looked at Anthony’s bruised face.
Then at his father.
“Daddy going?”
Carmine crouched.
“Yes.”
Leo’s expression changed immediately.
Fear.
“Come back?”
Two words.
Simple.
They struck harder than any accusation Helena made.
Carmine looked at Anthony.
Then at the men waiting near the door.
Every old instinct told him to go now.
Move before the enemy moved.
Strike while the trail was warm.
Carmine lifted Leo.
“Not tonight.”
Anthony stared.
Carmine carried his son upstairs.
May you like
The hunt could wait six hours.
A three-year-old who believed his father always left could not.
