Chapter 6
793words
The family didn't put out a formal notice, but the street knew. Mob bosses and Made Men came by in a steady stream, all of them sensing the suffocating tension inside the house.
My parents had collapsed from grief so many times they were upstairs on IV drips.
In the living room, Isabella wore an expensive, custom black gown with a white flower pinned to her chest.
She was crying "crocodile tears," her eyes puffy and red. She looked more heartbroken than anyone.
She played the part perfectly, handing water to Lorenzo, who was kneeling at the altar, and whispering comforts to my shattered brothers.
"It had to be the Russians... the Ivanovs," Isabella sobbed, her voice trembling with just the right amount of fear and rage.
"They knew the wedding was yesterday. They wanted to humiliate the Falcones. They wanted to break the Caruso alliance. Oh, poor Elena... she was just a pawn to them."
Lorenzo sat on the floor, motionless, like a statue that had lost its soul. He clutched the cleaned engagement ring in his fist, his fingertips white from the pressure.
Luca’s eyes were bloodshot. "I’m going to wipe out every last Ivanov. I’ll take the crew and burn their nest to the ground tonight!"
Dante drew his gun, his face a mask of pure murder.
They were ready to let their rage blind them, but there was still one person who saw through the smoke.
Matteo sat on a sofa in the corner, the blue light of a laptop reflecting off his glasses.
He was watching the CCTV footage. Over and over.
The police had recovered footage from a nearby intersection. It was grainy, but the tech guys had cleaned it up enough to see the details.
"Wait," Matteo said.
His voice was terrifyingly dry, like sandpaper rubbing together.
That one word stopped the room cold.
Matteo looked up, his bloodshot eyes sharp and predatory behind his lenses.
"Look at this."
He turned the screen toward the group, pointing to a corner of the frame.
"This unmarked white van. It was already sitting in the shadows of that intersection ten minutes before Lorenzo even stopped the car."
On the screen, the beat-up van sat there, lurking.
"And look. It wasn't shut off. You can see the exhaust fumes."
Lorenzo snapped his head up, staring at the screen.
Matteo’s voice got even colder, sending a shiver through the room.
"This was a professional hit. An ambush. But even a pro can’t see the future."
He stood up, his gaze cutting through the room like a blade.
"How did they know you were going to dump Elena at that exact spot?"
"That stop wasn't planned. Lorenzo didn't even know he was going to pull over there until that phone call happened."
"Other than Lorenzo and Elena, the only person who knew the location was the person who called him and told him to stop the car."
The air in the room turned to stone.
Every pair of eyes in the room swung toward Isabella.
That rainy night.
It was Isabella who called, screaming that she was in danger at the docks.
It was that call that made Lorenzo lose his head and slam on the brakes at that specific street to kick me out.
Isabella’s face went from pale to ghostly.
She instinctively took a step back, the water in her glass sloshing over the rim.
"Matteo, what... what are you saying?"
There was a flicker of panic in her voice, but she tried to mask it. She widened her eyes, and the tears started flowing again.
"Are you saying I killed my own sister? I’m her flesh and blood! I just wanted to see the fireworks one last time before she got married!"
In the past, that pathetic act would have been enough to make them go soft.
But I was dead now.
And I died screaming.
The grief had finally burned away the fog in their heads.
Lorenzo slowly stood up.
There wasn't a trace of warmth left in him. He looked like a demon as he glared at Isabella.
"The footage shows Elena was hit less than sixty seconds after she got out of the car."
Lorenzo stepped toward her, his voice a low, hellish growl.
"The van moved the second my door closed. It was like they were waiting for a signal."
The seed of doubt had finally taken root in the minds of these wolves.
In a family like this, once you start doubting someone, you don't need evidence. You just need your gut.
And right now, their guts were screaming her name.
