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11: The Blood Audit
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2026-01-09 17:46:31CHAPTER ELEVEN
POV: Dante Moretti
The morning after the airfield was not for rest. In my world, a vacuum of power is filled by blood if it isn't filled by force.
I stood at the head of the boardroom table in the Moretti stronghold, a high-rise of glass and steel that overlooked the city like a watchtower. Seated around me were the twelve Capos the backbone of my organization. They were men who had killed for me, bled for me, and grew rich under my rule.
But today, their faces were masks of doubt. The betrayal of Enzo had left a scent of weakness in the air, and they were looking for someone to blame.
"You purged the Enforcer," Silvio, the oldest Capo, rumbled. He was a man who still believed in the old ways omertà and strictly heterosexual lineages. "But you kept the boy. The Vane boy who caused the rot in the first place."
I didn't answer immediately. I leaned back, my eyes scanning the room. I felt the presence behind me before I heard it. The doors opened, and Julian walked in.
He wasn't the "Golden Prince" anymore. He was dressed in a charcoal suit I had tailored for him sharp lines, narrow waist, cold elegance. The bandage on his temple was gone, replaced by a jagged red line that looked like a lightning bolt. He didn't wait for an invitation. He walked to the seat at my right hand Enzo’s old seat and sat down.
A ripple of shock went through the room.
"He doesn't have a seat here," Silvio snapped, his hand slamming onto the table.
Julian didn't flinch. He leaned forward, placing a thick leather dossier on the table. He looked at Silvio with eyes that had seen the bottom of a grave and climbed back out.
"I have the ledger for the East End docks, Silvio," Julian said, his voice calm and melodic, yet carrying a razor-sharp edge. "The one your men have been skimming from for the last eighteen months."
The room went deathly silent. Silvio’s face turned a mottled purple. "You lying little "
"I’m not lying," Julian interrupted, sliding a sheet of paper across the polished wood. "My father kept two sets of books. One for the family, and one for the blackmail. I found the second set this morning in the 'Data' we recovered from the airfield. It shows that you’ve been diverting fifteen percent of the Moretti shipping fees into a shell company in the Caymans."
Julian looked at me, then back at the table. "Dante married me for legitimacy. But I think you’ll find I’m much more useful as an auditor."
I hid a smirk behind my hand. He was magnificent. He was using the Vane family’s greatest weapon information to cut the legs out from under my most rebellious captain.
"Is this true, Silvio?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave.
"He’s twisting numbers! You’re going to believe a Vane over your own blood?" Silvio shouted, looking around the room for support. But the other Capos were looking at the paper. They knew Julian was right.
"In this room, the only 'blood' that matters is the blood we’re willing to spill for this family," I said, standing up. I walked behind Silvio, my hand resting on the back of his chair. "Julian isn't just a Vane. He’s the man who shot his own brother to protect our shipment. What have you done lately, Silvio? Besides steal from me?"
I didn't give him time to answer. I signaled to the guards at the door. "Take him to the basement. Not the one for guests. The one for thieves."
As Silvio was dragged out, screaming about loyalty, I looked at the remaining eleven men. They were staring at Julian now, not with contempt, but with fear. And in the Mafia, fear is the only form of respect that lasts.
"Julian is the head of the Blood Audit," I announced. "He has full access to the books of every territory. If the numbers don't match, he comes to me. And if he comes to me... I come for you."
The Capos nodded in unison, their bravado shattered.
"Meeting adjourned," I said.
They scrambled out of the room, leaving Julian and me alone in the vast, glass-walled space. Julian let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders finally dropping an inch.
"That was a gamble," I said, walking over to him. I leaned against the table, looking down at him. "If those numbers had been off by even a decimal point, they would have torn you apart."
"I don't miss, Dante," Julian said, looking up at me. "You told me that yourself."
He reached out and took my hand, his thumb tracing the Moretti ring on my finger. "They hate me. They’ll never stop trying to kill me."
"Let them try," I said, pulling him up from the chair and into my arms. I looked out at the city we were now ruling together. "They’re fighting for scraps. We’re building an empire."
I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. "But you still have one more audit to perform tonight."
"Oh?" Julian arched a dark eyebrow. "And what’s that?"
"Mine," I whispered. "I want to see if you can find the heart beneath the Butcher."
Julian smiled a slow, dangerous, and beautiful expression. He reached up, his fingers tangling in my tie, pulling me down toward him.
"I’ve already found it, Dante. I’m just deciding what to do with it."
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