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THE REAL ENEMY
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2025-05-09 17:00:23BLOOD AND VOWS
--- CHAPTER EIGHT THE REAL ENEMY “Sometimes the most dangerous man in the room isn’t the one holding a gun—it’s the one watching in silence.” --- The explosion didn’t happen on Moretti turf. It hit the Romano-owned nightclub in Queens—three dead, one in critical, and zero claims of responsibility. But everyone knew it was a message. Not from the Morettis. Not from the Romanos. From someone else. Emilia got the call from Rosa just after midnight. Alessio was already halfway dressed, holster strapped to his side. “Another strike?” she asked, pulling her jacket on. He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. “Not us. Not my father. Not your uncle.” Emilia paused. “Then who?” That was the question everyone in the city would be asking by morning. And someone already had an answer. --- They arrived at the scene just before the police tape went up. Alessio’s men were everywhere, pretending to be security. The building still smoldered. Blood trailed down the sidewalk like spilled paint. The DJ booth inside had been split in half, a body pinned under it, limbs bent the wrong way. Emilia walked the perimeter slowly, scanning every corner, every face. “It wasn’t random,” she said. “They knew the schedule. This happened during shift change—fewer men on-site.” Alessio nodded. “And no Moretti targets hit.” “Which means someone’s drawing a line.” “Between us.” She looked at him. “You think this is Vitale?” “Enzo’s been too quiet since the truce.” “Quiet is his favorite weapon.” --- Later that night, they sat in Alessio’s war room—low light, maps on the wall, silence thick between them. He reviewed footage, tapping through camera angles, pausing on the same frame three times: a man in a dark hoodie, blurred face, walking away from the club seconds before detonation. “Who is he?” Emilia asked. “Too clean. Too careful. Could be no one. Could be anyone.” She folded her arms. “Or someone who knows how we both operate.” Alessio looked at her. “You think we’ve got a rat?” “I think we’ve got a third party who’s smart enough to make it look like us fighting each other.” He leaned back, nodding once. “Divide and conquer,” he muttered. “Classic.” --- By morning, the headlines had already taken sides. ROMANO CLUB BOMBING SPARKS FEARS OF BROKEN TRUCE MORETTI-Romano MARRIAGE FAILING? CITY ON EDGE WHO BENEFITS IF THE MAFIA GOES TO WAR AGAIN? Emilia tossed the paper across the breakfast table. “They’re drooling for blood,” she said. “They always are,” Alessio replied, sipping black coffee. She stood, pacing. “We can’t just sit here. We need to hit back.” “Hit who?” “The people responsible.” “We don’t have proof.” “We don’t need proof. We need pressure.” He looked at her sharply. “You start shooting shadows, you get ghosts in return.” “I’m not afraid of ghosts,” she said. “I am. Because ghosts don’t die easy.” --- They met that afternoon with Don Salvatore and her uncle in the Moretti boardroom. Both men wore matching expressions—tight-lipped, calculating. “This wasn’t sanctioned,” Don Salvatore said. “We’re not stupid,” her uncle replied. “But we’re also not blind.” “You think the Vitale family is behind this?” Alessio asked. “We know they’ve been moving shipments through New Jersey. That’s Romano territory.” “Then why haven’t we moved on them?” Emilia demanded. Her uncle gave her a hard look. “Because if we make a move without confirmation, we look like amateurs.” Don Salvatore nodded. “And weak.” Alessio leaned forward. “We need bait.” Everyone turned. He looked at Emilia. “You’ll go to Enzo.” She narrowed her eyes. “As what? A pawn?” “As a diplomat,” he said. “An angry bride looking for answers.” Her uncle shook his head. “Too risky.” “I can handle myself,” Emilia said. Alessio’s gaze was steady. “I know.” --- Enzo Vitale ran his empire out of a marble-walled mansion on the edge of Edgewater. Quiet wealth. Clean money. Just enough charm to fool anyone who didn’t know what he really was. He welcomed Emilia with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Mrs. Moretti,” he said. “Or can I still call you Romano?” She sat down across from him, legs crossed, calm as ice. “Depends. Do I need to remind you which family has more bodies on its books?” He chuckled. “Always a pleasure.” The room was empty except for them, but she could feel the presence of guards behind the walls, just out of sight. “You heard what happened,” she said. “I did. Tragic.” “Coincidental,” she corrected. Enzo raised an eyebrow. “Are you accusing me of something?” “I’m wondering why you’re so quiet when two families are one bomb away from another war.” “I prefer to let the dust settle before I speak.” “Funny,” she said, standing. “Because silence looks a lot like guilt from where I’m standing.” He smiled, slow and predatory. “Be careful, Emilia. This world chews up queens faster than pawns.” She leaned in close. “That’s because most queens never learn to play like kings.” --- When she got back to the estate, Alessio was waiting. He didn’t ask what Enzo said. She didn’t offer. “He knows something,” she said instead. “He’s too calm.” “He always is.” She sat across from him. “We need to make him move. Push him to show his hand.” He looked at her. “Then we’ll give him a reason to come out of the dark.” She tilted her head. “How?” He leaned forward. “By pretending we’re falling apart.” - ---
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BLOOD AND VOWS THE ENDING WE CHOSE (PART 2)
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BLOOD AND VOWS THE ENDING WE CHOSE (PART 1)
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BLOOD AND VOWS WE ARCHIVE
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BLOOD AND VOWS ALL THAT WE BURIED
CHAPTER FOURTY-SEVEN ALL THAT WE BURIED “The deeper you dig into the past, the more it starts digging back.” The mountains rose like broken teeth from the Austrian horizon, white-capped and indifferent. They held no memory of blood, no record of names. Snow covered every ruin eventually. But buried beneath the southern slope of what the locals called Todesspitze—Death Peak—was a structure that predated the Cold War, the Reich, the Empire before it. No markers. No flags. Just the hum beneath the ground, faint and rhythmic, like a second heartbeat waiting to be acknowledged. Alessio sat in the rear of the modified transport van as they climbed the narrow mountain path. A three-man team from Sofia’s personal network drove ahead in a decoy vehicle. They didn’t know the mission. Just that the people inside the main van carried something older than bullets and more dangerous than explosives: memory that refused to stay buried. Bianca sat across from him, gloves on, eyes locked on t
BLOOD AND VOWS THE ONES WHO WATCHED IT HAPPEN
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BLOOD AND VOWS WHAT THE SILENCE COVERED
--- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE WHAT THE SILENCE COVERED “Not everything buried was meant to be found. Some things were buried to keep the living from becoming worse than the dead.” The plane touched down in Istanbul just after midnight. No official manifest. No customs. No one waiting. Alessio, Bianca, Sofia, and Rosa stepped onto the tarmac wearing plain black coats, faces clean, no weapons in hand—but every one of them carried the weight of the last vault under their skin. Tomaso stayed behind to lock down the estate. Someone had to keep the fire lit in case they didn’t come back. The van waiting at the edge of the runway had no plates. A driver sat in the front seat, face hidden beneath a gray cap, no words spoken. When Alessio opened the side door, he found a folder waiting on the seat. Inside—coordinates, a skeletal map of the Old City, and a list of known “anomalies.” That was the word used. Not threats. Not traps. Anomalies. As if they weren’t heading into danger, but into som
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