Chapter 8 - War Council|
By daybreak, the top floor of the Valente headquarters in downtown Chicago was transformed into a war room.
Dominic sat at the head of the massive mahogany conference table, his black suit crisp, his face pale and set in stone. Mateo sat to his right, while five capos—the senior lieutenants of the Valente empire—stood around the room in tense silence.
"What do we have on Lorenzo Moretti?" Dominic asked, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
Mateo pulled up security footage on the large wall monitor.
"Traffic cameras picked up the armored SUV leaving the South Side intersection right after the crash," Mateo explained, pointing to a dark, reinforced vehicle with blacked-out windows. "It sped directly into an industrial estate owned by a holding company tied to Lorenzo."
"Has Lorenzo made a statement?" one of the capos asked.
"No," Mateo replied. "He’s gone into hiding. His men have fortified their territory in the South Side. They know we're coming."
Dominic leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers intertwined.
"He targeted my wife," Dominic said, each word laced with poison. "He lured her out using my own sins against her, and then he tried to murder her in cold blood."
"Boss, if we strike the South Side directly, it means full-scale war," another capo warned carefully. "The Commission in New York will step in. The federal authorities are already watching us."
Dominic slammed his fist down onto the heavy mahogany table with enough force to echo like a gunshot through the room.
"I don't give a damn about New York! I don't give a damn about the feds!" Dominic roared, his eyes bloodshot with rage. "Lorenzo Moretti spilled my wife's blood on Chicago streets! I want every warehouse, every club, and every dock he owns burned to the ground by midnight!"
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Mateo nodded grimly. "Consider it done, Boss."
"Find Lorenzo," Dominic added softly, his tone dropping into something far darker. "Bring him to me alive. He doesn't get the mercy of a quick bullet."
