Secret Crown

XXIX. Twenty-Nine

Adrián

After Angelo drove for hours, we finally came to a stop in what smelled like sewage water and dead fish. We had to be in a run-down shipping port. The air was salty and humid, and I could see the faintest of the light through the black cloth that was on my head. By this time, I had dislocated my thumbs in the backseat, and the handcuffs were ready to slip off. I just needed to know if Vicenzo and Luca were here too.

Angelo was cursing as he herded me into a building. I could hear between ten and fifteen men in the hall and rooms that we passed on the way out there. I could hear some very distinct voices from some of the men in a room at the far end of the hall where we were headed. Their voices were getting more and more familiar as we approached the room.

"Gentlemen, I give you the end to all your problems," Luca said as he rose from his chair to take the cloth off my head. We were standing in a meeting room with Dante Morelli and Lorenzo Gallo. They were part of the four Italian families that included the Lombardi. Dante was an older man who resembled a retired football player. His skin was olive brown, and he controlled most of the unions in Chicago, ranging from construction to public transportation. He looked up from his paperwork and took off his glasses to rub his eyes closed, making sure he wasn't seeing an illusion.

Lorenzo was younger than anyone here in the room, only becoming the leader after his father, Enzo, and the firstborn Gallo heir, Riccardo, were gunned down by Columbians a couple of years ago. To not cause a battle for the throne, his bastard son Lorenzo took over. He was 23 years old, impatient, and inexperienced in our field. He grinned as he looked up from his stack. "Whatever the fuck this is, Luca, count me out," Dante said, pushing the stack of papers away from him. "You haven't read the proposal yet, old man," Luca taunted. "I don't need to know what's in these papers when you have the Devil of Chicago's son here in cuffs." Dante coolly responded, looking over to Lorenzo. He patted him on the back and spoke to him in Italian. Dante wasn't congratulating Lorenzo; he was warning him. "The Morelli want it known; we will not stand against you, Adrián," Dante said.

Dante was a smart businessman. He knew through our many years of business better than to cross us. With a snap of my fingers, I could end their empires and make sure every last Morelli and Gallo would die. It was Lorenzo who was too confident and rose from his chair to greet his uncle Alessandro. Lorenzo was in charge, but everyone in our world knew he was his uncle's puppet; he was the shotcaller. Alessandro greeted everyone in the room, and his eyes widened as he saw me in cuffs. "What is going on here?" Alessandro asked, looking to his nephew for answers.

Lorenzo replied with confidence, which made his uncle's blood drain from his face. His uncle heavily patted his nephew's face and told him Italian the equivalence of, "You're out of your fucking mind." His uncle cleared his throat and straightened his gray Armani suit. "The Gallos want nothing to do with this either." Lorenzo rose from the chair in disbelief, "Are you kidding me!?" He yelled at his uncle, "I'm in charge here! What I say goes!" Lorenzo sat back down and pricked his finger onto the paper. His uncle heavily patted his nephew's back as he watched his beloved nephew sign his death sentence. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat and ran his fingers through his silver hair. "Arrivederci Son," his uncle said as he exhaled a deep breath and began walking out the door.

"Hey! Where the fuck are you going!?" Lorenzo yelled to his uncle. "You are in charge here, Lorenzo. As of this moment, you are truly alone." He painfully sighed. "Your father, Enzo, may he rest in peace, will understand why I am leaving you now." As Alessandro gave his nephew one final look, he turned back around and focused his crisp green eyes on me. "As a last request from this old man, please leave my nephew's body intact for a proper burial." He painfully sighed. "I can't guarantee you anything, Sandros." I respectfully said, looking over at what his nephew had just done. "But I'll take it into consideration as I slaughter him." "Thank you, Adrián." He slowly said this as he walked out of the room.