Chapter 13 - the cage in the storm
Victor walked out from behind the containers into the bright glare of the floodlights. His black tuxedo was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but his broad frame was an immovable wall. Luca stepped out twenty paces to his left, rifle raised.
"Put the detonator down, Celeste," Victor said, his voice cutting through the wind.
"Why should I?" Celeste laughed bitterly, her diamond necklace flashing under the harsh lamps. "Everything I built for five years is gone! Falcone turned coward, the feds pulled out, and your mongrel brother turned against me!"
"Luca was never yours to buy," Victor said, taking another steady step forward.
"Don't take another step!" Celeste shrieked, her thumb hovering over the red switch on the small transmitter. "There are four military-grade thermite charges strapped to the structural pillars inside this container. One spark, and everything inside turns to ash at four thousand degrees."
Victor stopped. His eyes drifted past her toward the interior of the white container.
Inside, sitting in a wheelchair wrapped in a thick wool blanket, was an elderly woman with silver hair and the unmistakable, elegant posture of Helena Bellandi. Her hands rested gently on her lap, and though her face was lined with age and suffering, her dark eyes were wide with recognition as she looked past Celeste at Victor.
*Mom,* the word echoed silently in Victor’s mind, tightening his throat with an emotion he hadn't felt in twelve years.
"What do you want, Celeste?" Victor asked, keeping his voice dead and level. "Name the price. The jet is fueled at Logan Airport. Take whatever offshore accounts you have left and vanish."
"I don't want money anymore, Victor," Celeste spat, her eyes wild. "I wanted the Bellandi seat! My father spent forty years bowing to Salvatore! When Salvatore stole the Vance assets, he promised my family a third of the empire through marriage. Then he died, and he left everything to a bastard who isn't even a Bellandi!"
"I am the Boss of this family," Victor said, his voice dropping into that chilling, gravelly tone that had made grown men beg for their lives. "Not because of the blood in my veins. Because I took it. Because I held it. And because nobody in this city has the spine to take it from me."
"Then let's see you rule over ashes," Celeste whispered.
Her thumb pressed down on the switch.
Nothing happened.
Celeste frowned, frantically pressing the button three more times. "What... what is this?!"
From inside the container, a tall, shadowy figure stepped out from behind Helena’s wheelchair.
The man stepped into the light of the floodlights. He was dressed in a dark maritime jacket, his face weathered, holding the severed blue detonation wire in his gloved hand.
Victor’s breath caught in his chest.
The man had piercing grey eyes, high cheekbones, and the exact same jawline that Victor saw every morning in the mirror.
May you like
It was Julian Vance.
***
