Chapter 7 - The Severed Branch
Mateo’s weathered face did not crumble into panic. Instead, something far more sinister happened: the facade of the loyal, grandfatherly counselor slowly washed away, replaced by an expression of cold, disdainful mockery.
A slow, dry chuckle rattled in the old man’s chest.
“You were always too sharp, Adrian,” Mateo said, leaning back in his chair without an ounce of fear. “Your father made a mistake when he bypassed Julian for you. Julian had the vision. He understood that Chicago is a puddle. The world is an ocean.”
Rocco immediately drew his weapon, aiming it squarely at Mateo’s temple. The other Capos scrambled out of their chairs, hands flying to their holsters, the room descending into instant, explosive chaos.
“Hold!” Adrian roared.
His voice thundered with such authority that the room froze instantly. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
Adrian straightened his back, looking down at his father’s oldest friend. “How long, Mateo?”
“Since before the fire,” Mateo said smoothly, adjusting the silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. “Julian saw the decline of the traditional families coming. He knew the feds, the cartels, the financial institutions would crush you. He built Obsidian to operate in the stratosphere—clean money, untraceable shipping, global leverage. He needed you to stay here, running the street rackets, taking all the heat, while he conquered the real empire.”
“And Evelyn?” Adrian’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Why take her?”
“Because Julian hated that your father loved you more,” Mateo sneered. “He wanted to take the one thing that made you feel human. And he knew that as long as you were looking for her ghost, your eyes would never look up to see the noose he was tightening around your neck.”
Mateo smiled, a yellow, venomous grin.
“You think you won by taking her back from Newport? That was the trigger, Adrian. Julian wanted you to find her. The moment she crossed back into Chicago, the endgame began.”
Before Adrian could reply, Mateo’s hand darted toward his mouth.
“Rocco, stop him!” Adrian shouted.
Rocco lunged forward, but it was too late. Mateo bit down hard on a ceramic capsule hidden behind his lower molars. Within three seconds, his body stiffened violently. His eyes rolled back into his skull, foam mixed with dark blood spilling past his lips.
The consigliere slumped forward over the mahogany table, dead before his forehead hit the wood.
Silence fell over the room once more, thick with the metallic stench of cyanide.
The Capos stood paralyzed, looking from the dead body of their most senior advisor to the terrifying, unreadable face of their Don.
Adrian did not blink. He looked at the corpse of the man who had betrayed his blood, then raised his head toward the surviving Capos.
“Clean this filth out of my sight,” Adrian ordered, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “Double the perimeter guards on the estate. Luca, take your men and lock down the rail yards. If a single train moves out of this city without my signature, kill the engineer.”
Adrian turned on his heel and strode toward the elevator.
May you like
His brother was in Chicago. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones.
***
