Chapter 9 - The Viper at the Door
|
The serenity of the afternoon was shattered by the arrival of three black sedans that pulled aggressively into the circular driveway.
Anias was in the drawing room, sitting on the Persian rug with Leland, helping the boy assemble a wooden train track.
Nancy stood nearby, folding a small blanket, but she froze instantly at the sound of car doors slamming outside.
Carmine appeared in the arched doorway of the drawing room, his expression tight and his hand resting on the grip of his concealed firearm.
“Boss, it’s Mateo,” Carmine said in a low, urgent tone.
“He brought half a dozen of his North End soldiers with him.”
“He claims he’s here for the weekly syndicate collection report.”
Anias did not flinch; he calmly placed a wooden locomotive onto the tracks and gave it a gentle push toward Leland.
“Stay here with your mama for a moment, little lion,” Anias said softly, his voice betraying none of the lethal intent coursing through his veins.
“Papa has some business to discuss with a guest.”
Leland looked up, clutching the wooden train to his chest, and nodded obediently.
“Don’t let the monsters in, Papa,” the boy said with solemn gravity.
Anias leaned down, kissing his son’s forehead with tender reverence.
“No monsters will ever pass this door, son,” Anias whispered.
Anias stood up, smoothed his tailored suit, and walked out into the grand limestone foyer.
The double entry doors swung open, and Mateo Moretti walked in as if he owned the manor, his expensive camel-hair coat draped over his shoulders.
Mateo had a sharp, predatory face, with slicked-back dark hair and cold, calculating eyes that were constantly measuring the room.
Behind him stood four hulking enforcers, their hands tucked into their pockets.
“Anias, cousin!” Mateo said with a wide, oily grin that didn't reach his eyes.
“I heard rumors that you skipped our collection meeting at the docks yesterday.”
“The capos were getting nervous, wondering if the great Don Anias had grown soft in his suburban fortress.”
Anias stood at the bottom of the curved grand staircase, his hands resting easily at his sides, exuding an aura of absolute, immovable power.
“I am never soft, Mateo,” Anias replied, his tone chillingly even.
“I was simply attending to family matters.”
At that exact moment, the drawing room door opened slightly, and Leland peeked his head out, holding a brown teddy bear by the ear.
“Papa, the train fell off the bridge,” the child called out innocently.
Mateo’s grin froze on his face.
His dark eyes snapped toward the little boy, narrowing in sudden, vicious recognition.
The four-year-old child had the Moretti jawline, the Moretti gray eyes, and the unmistakable posture of his father.
Mateo took a step toward the drawing room, his jaw tightening into a grimace of thwarted ambition.
“Well, well,” Mateo sneered, his voice dropping its friendly facade.
“What do we have here?”
“A stray pup wandering around the master’s house?”
Before Mateo could take another breath, Anias closed the distance between them with blinding speed.
Anias’s large hand shot out, clamping around Mateo’s throat like a hydraulic vise, slamming his cousin backward against the heavy oak front door.
The impact shook the glass panes above the entryway.
Mateo’s four bodyguards reached instinctively for their weapons, but the metallic sound of a dozen shotgun slides racking echoed from the upper landing.
Carmine and eight of Anias’s elite guards stood along the balcony, their heavy weapons trained directly on the heads of Mateo’s men.
“Nobody moves,” Carmine commanded with lethal calm.
Mateo clawed desperately at Anias’s iron grip, his face turning purple as his feet barely touched the marble floor.
Anias leaned in until their foreheads were inches apart, his gray eyes burning with cold, merciless fury.
“Look at him again, Mateo,” Anias whispered, his voice vibrating with absolute menace.
“Look at my son with those dead eyes of yours, and I will rip your throat out with my bare hands right on this doorstep.”
“You have until midnight to gather your things and run,” Anias hissed into his ear.
“Because when tomorrow’s sun rises, the hunt begins.”
May you like
Anias released his grip, letting Mateo collapse onto the floor in a coughing, gasping heap.
“Throw them off my property,” Anias commanded his men without looking back, turning toward his son who stood watching from the doorway.
