Chapter 8 - The Traitor’s Shadow
Two weeks later.
The restructuring of the Carter-Duca alliance was moving forward with terrifying efficiency. Amelia had personally assumed the chair of the board at Carter Logistics, firing twenty corrupt executives and replacing them with loyal, young officers who reported directly to her.
Yet, one loose thread remained.
The internal traitor inside the Duca Syndicate who had helped Marco Moretti keep Amelia hidden had not yet been exposed.
It was two in the morning.
Roman sat in his private underground vault beneath the estate, reviewing financial security ledgers provided by his cyber-forensics team.
A soft knock echoed against the reinforced steel door.
Mateo stepped into the room, holding a glass of bourbon. “You’re still up, boss.”
“The encrypted comms log from the night we found Amelia,” Roman said flatly, without looking up from the screen. “The signal trace came from inside this house twenty minutes before I arrived at the warehouse.”
Mateo sat down on the leather armchair across from the desk, taking a slow sip of his drink. “You think it was one of the house guards?”
“No,” Roman replied, turning his eyes slowly toward his childhood friend. “The house guards don't have access to the secondary master transponder frequency.”
Mateo froze, his glass halfway to his mouth.
Silence stretched thick and suffocating in the vault.
Roman set his tablet down on the desk. His hazel eyes were cold, unblinking, and filled with a profound, terrifying disappointment.
“Why, Mateo?” Roman asked quietly.
Mateo set his glass down on the desk with a sharp clack. The easygoing grin he had worn for twenty years vanished, replaced by a cold, bitter mask.
“Because your father gave everything to you, Roman,” Mateo spat out, his voice laced with long-suppressed jealousy. “I did the dirty work! I handled the hits, I ran the docks in the rain, I took a bullet in Miami! And when your father died, he left ninety percent of the syndicate to you!”
“So you sold Amelia to Marco Moretti?” Roman demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous register.
“Marco offered me fifty percent of the Carter shipping revenue once Amelia was declared legally dead!” Mateo shouted, standing up from his chair. “I didn't want her killed! I told Marco to hold her until the probate court cleared the estate! But then you spent two years obsessing over her, burning down our business lines just to find a ghost!”
Mateo reached into his jacket pocket for his concealed firearm.
He was fast.
Roman was faster.
A muted thud echoed through the vault as Roman drawn his weapon and fired a single round straight through Mateo’s heart.
Mateo stumbled backward, his hand slipping from his holster, crashing hard against the steel door frame before sliding down to the floor, dead.
Roman stood behind his desk, holding his smoking weapon, looking down at his oldest friend.
The door behind Mateo slid open.
Amelia stepped into the vault, wearing a dark velvet robe, holding her rusted iron pipe in her hand. She looked down at Mateo’s body, then up at Roman’s emotionless face.
“It was Mateo,” she said softly.
“It was Mateo,” Roman confirmed, reholstering his weapon.
Amelia walked past the body, stepping up to Roman, wrapping her arms securely around his waist, leaning her head against his chest.
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“The past is dead, Roman,” Amelia whispered gently. “Every single man who built that cage is gone.”
Roman wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his heart, letting the cold silence of the vault absorb the final remnants of their old tragedy.
