Chapter 10 - the traitor's face
The private elevator doors slid open with a whisper.
Three men in tactical black vests and night-vision goggles moved out in a tight triangle formation, suppressed submachine guns raised. They moved with military precision, clearing the foyer angles before signaling toward the elevator car.
A fourth figure stepped out behind them.
He wasn't wearing tactical gear. He wore a tailored charcoal wool coat over a crisp white shirt, his hands casually shoved into his pockets.
Julian Moretti.
Julian looked around the darkened penthouse with a mild, appreciative smile. "Always loved the view from this floor. Such a shame Luca never had the taste to appreciate it."
From behind the marble pillar, Luca didn't move. He listened to the footsteps—three boots on hardwood, one pair of leather-soled shoes clicking on marble.
"Spread out," Julian instructed the mercenaries, his voice smooth and conversational. "Check the bedrooms. The woman and the child first. Luca won't let himself be taken easily, but if you have the child, he will put his gun down."
A cold, lethal silence answered him.
Then, from the dark corridor leading to the bedrooms, a single shot rang out—muffled and precise.
One of the mercenaries at the edge of the kitchen collapsed with a dull thud, his weapon clattering across the floor. Marco stepped out from the hallway shadow, firing twice more. The second mercenary dropped behind the kitchen island.
The third mercenary swung his weapon toward Marco, but before he could squeeze the trigger, Luca stepped out from behind the pillar.
Two rapid shots echoed through the penthouse. The third mercenary fell forward, motionless.
In less than four seconds, the room belonged to Luca again.
Julian stood frozen in the center of the foyer. The casual smile on his face dissolved, replaced by a sudden, sickly pale sheen of sweat across his forehead. He slowly raised his hands to shoulder height.
"Luca," Julian said, his voice cracking slightly. "Let's be reasonable."
Luca stepped forward, the barrel of his handgun aimed squarely at Julian’s chest. The amber emergency light caught the sharp angles of Luca’s face, making him look like a statue carved from vengeance.
"You put a tracker in a six-year-old child's bag, Julian," Luca said, his voice dangerously low. "You sent men to execute my daughter."
Julian swallowed hard, taking half a step back toward the elevator, but Marco was already behind him, kicking the elevator call panel with his boot, shattering the controls.
"She isn't your daughter, Luca!" Julian spat, panic stripping away his polite facade. "She's a liability! Look at what happened the second she surfaced! You're compromised! The entire family empire is compromised!"
"She is a Moretti," Luca snarled, closing the distance until the barrel of his gun was pressed firmly against the center of Julian’s forehead. "And you are a dead man."
"Shoot me, then!" Julian gasped, his eyes wild. "Shoot me, and you'll never know who paid for those mercenaries! You think I have thirty million dollars in liquid cash to hire elite contractors? You think this was my idea?"
Luca paused. His finger rested lightly on the trigger.
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"What did you say?" Luca whispered.
"I’m the middleman, Luca!" Julian breathed, his chest heaving against the cold steel of the gun barrel. "I was following orders! Just like I was six years ago!"
