CHAPTER 17
Vittorio
Blood stained the cuffs of my white shirt as I paced the bedroom. Sophie had fallen asleep from exhaustion, her breathing finally steady after the attack. The image I couldn't shake from my mind—her standing over a dead body, knife in hand—had seared itself into my memory. She had transformed before my eyes—from captive to survivor to something far more dangerous: a mother protecting her child.
I had created this. Every choice I'd made since dragging her into my car that rainy night had led us here.
My phone vibrated. Enzo.
"Is it done?" I asked.
"We have Carbone's location. He's at the restaurant."
Of course he was. The old fool believed himself untouchable, continuing his routines even after sending killers to my home. He'd madea critical error—he'd failed to understand that when I eliminated Antonio, I'd severed all remaining ties to the old ways.
"Keep eyes on him. I'm coming."
I glanced at Sophie's sleeping form, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. Mateo stood guard outside our door, with six more men securing the perimeter. She would be safe while I finished this.
I changed into a fresh suit—charcoal gray, my funeral attire. The symbolism wasn't lost on me. Today marked the death of the old Ricci family and the birth of something new.
Enzo waited for me in the garage, standing beside the armored Bentley.
"Six men inside with Carbone," he reported as we pulled away from the estate. "All armed. He's holding court like nothing's happened."
"The arrogance of dinosaurs," I said. "They never see the asteroid coming."
We drove in silence through the city streets. My mind calculated angles, exits, and contingencies. This would be public. Messy. A statement written in blood that no one in our world could misinterpret.
Carbone had chosen Bella Notte, a restaurant that had served as neutral ground for family business for three generations. The irony wasn't lost on me. The place where deals were struck would become the place where the old guard died.
"Park three blocks away," I instructed. "I want to approach on foot."
Enzo nodded, pulling into an alley behind a row of upscale boutiques. He opened the trunk, revealing an arsenal.
I selected a matte black Beretta with a silencer and a vintage straight razor that had belonged to my grandfather. The gun was practical; the razor was symbolic. The old ways would die by their own traditions.
"You don't have to do this yourself," Enzo said, checking his own weapon. "We have men who—"
"This is personal," I cut him off. "Carbone sent men to kill Sophie. To kill my child."
Understanding flickered across Enzo's face. He'd been with me long enough to know when certain lines were crossed; there was no delegation, no distance. Some debts could only be paid in person.
We approached the restaurant from opposite directions. Through the windows, I could see Carbone holding court at his regular table in the back, surrounded by aging captains who clung to the old ways. They laughed over pasta and wine, celebrating their failed attempt on Sophie's life.
The maître d' recognized me immediately, his face paling. "Don Ricci, we weren't expecting—"
"It's a surprise visit," I said, slipping him a folded bill. "Don't announce me."
The restaurant hummed with conversation and clinking glasses. Patrons nodded respectfully as I passed, a few whispering behind their hands. Word of Antonio's death had spread, but few understood what it truly meant for our world.
Carbone saw me approaching, his weathered face registering first surprise, then contempt. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, setting it carefully beside his plate.
"Vittorio," he said, not bothering to stand. "We were just discussing your brother's unfortunate passing."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me with calculating eyes.
"My men have orders," Carbone said with a cold smile. "If I don't walk out of here, more will come for your precious family."
