Chapter 10 - The Sledgehammer of Truth
The presence of the Moretti family inside the Falco territory was a declaration of war, but Julian Falco was too small a fish to survive the first wave. He dropped his silver knife into the sawdust, his hands flying above his head as Roman’s men, led by Bishop, moved in to cut the chains around Roman’s wrists.
Roman stood up from the pallet, his shoulders straight despite the blood on his shirt. He didn't look at Julian; he walked straight to Mara, his large hand closing around her elbow with a grip that was warm, steady, and entirely permanent.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice dropping below the noise of the clearing room.
"Ivy is safe," she said, looking up into his dark eyes. "She’s with Marcus."
Roman let out a long breath, the ice beneath his pupils finally fracturing into something that looked like relief. He turned his attention to Julian, who was currently being pinned against the oil drum by two of Dante’s associates.
"Your uncle Silvio sold you out an hour ago, Julian," Dante Moretti said, stepping into the light circle, his dark eyes looking down at the leather binder on the floor. "He gave the federal prosecutors the digitalis receipts from Metairie in exchange for a deferred sentence on the logistics fraud. You’re the one going down for Clara’s murder."
Julian looked at Mrs. Gable, his face twisted into an expression of pure, animal panic. "Gable... you said the waitress didn't have anyone! You said she was just a girl from the diner!"
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"She’s a Foster, Julian," Dante said, his baritone voice slicing through the empty warehouse. "And her grandmother was the only woman who had the courage to keep a Moretti alive twenty years ago. You touched the wrong bloodline."
By 6:00 AM, the rain had cleared completely, leaving the New Orleans sky a pale, clean pink over the river. The police cruisers had taken Julian and Mrs. Gable away in the dark, their sirens fading out into the hum of the morning traffic on the crescent city connection.
