Chapter 8 - The Arrival of the Wolves
Adrian suddenly snapped. Driven mad by the total destruction of his world in less than three hours, he grabbed a heavy brass candelabra from the sideboard.
"I’ll kill you!" he screamed, lunging directly at me. "I’ll kill you myself, you bitch!"
He didn't make it two steps.
Matteo moved like an avalanche. In one fluid motion, he intercepted Adrian, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him against the mahogany dining table with enough force to crack the wood.
The candelabra clattered harmlessly away.
Adrian gasped, his feet dangling off the floor, his face turning purple under Matteo’s iron grip.
"Touch my sister again," Matteo whispered into his ear, "and I will tear your arms off your shoulders and feed them to the dogs at the pier."
"Matteo," Luca commanded softly. "Put him down. We do not do this like animals. We are Morettis."
Matteo released him. Adrian dropped to the floor, coughing violently, clutching his crushed windpipe.
Outside, the rumbling sound of heavy engines shook the estate.
Through the French windows, a fleet of six black armored SUVs pulled up onto the manicured lawn, followed by three white prisoner transport vans and several unmarked federal vehicles.
Dozens of private contractors in dark tactical gear secured the perimeter. Adrian’s empire had not just fallen; it was occupied territory.
My five brothers lined up beside me: Luca, Matteo, Dante, Marco, and Leo, who had just stepped in carrying his laptop.
Five giants of industry, crime, and power, standing as an impenetrable wall behind their only sister.
Adrian looked up from the floor, his arrogance completely shattered, replaced by the hollow, sickening realization of who he had truly married.
"Who are you?" Adrian whimpered, tears mixing with sweat on his bruised face. "What are you?"
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"I told you last night, Adrian," I replied, looking down at him. "My maiden name was Moretti."
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