Chapter 4 - The Scent of Blood
In Chicago, weakness does not remain hidden for long.
By the second week of Keo’s experimental therapy, the balance of power in the underworld began to shift. Don Silvio Moretti, my bitterest rival on the West Side, had noticed my sudden absence from the weekly sit-downs and the unexplained mobilization of my personal security detail around St. Jude’s.
I was sitting in my study at the Lakeview manor late on a Monday night, reviewing shipping manifests, when Marco stepped into the room without knocking. His trench coat was soaked, and his expression was grim.
"We have a tail, Lorenzo," Marco said, shutting the heavy oak doors. "A black sedan registered to a Moretti front company was spotted circling St. Jude’s two hours ago. They photographed the perimeter guards."
My grip tightened on the crystal tumbler of scotch until the glass groaned under the pressure. "Did they identify the boy?"
"Not yet. But Silvio knows you dropped half a million dollars on a pediatric patient. Rumors are spreading through the five families. They think the boy is your illegitimate son."
A cold, lethal fury settled into my chest. "Let them think whatever they want. But if Silvio Moretti thinks he can use a dying child as leverage against me, I will turn his entire family tree into kindling."
"Silvio doesn't play by the old codes anymore," Marco warned. "His enforcer, Dante, is reckless. If Dante thinks snatching that boy will force you to surrender the southern shipping docks, he won't hesitate to storm the ward."
The hospital was no longer secure. Even with private security, St. Jude’s was a civilian facility with hundreds of vulnerable entry points.
"Prepare the medical convoy," I commanded, rising from my desk. "We move Keo and Linda tonight."
"To where, boss?"
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"Here," I said, looking around the bulletproof, fortified walls of my estate. "Bring Dr. Vance and a complete mobile ICU unit. Silvio wants a war? He can come find me on my own ground. But that boy stays alive."
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