Chapter 4 - The Cicero Interrogation
The rain in Cicero fell harder, splashing against the cracked asphalt of an abandoned meatpacking plant that had belonged to the Moretti family since the days of Prohibition. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old salt, copper, and damp earth. A single industrial floodlight hung from a rusted chain, illuminating a heavy iron chair bolted to the concrete floor.
Jake Vance was tied to the chair with aircraft cable, his face a swollen, bloody mess of terror. His breath came in ragged huffs through a broken nose, his eyes darting frantically toward the four massive men in dark suits standing just outside the circle of light.
The heavy steel door groaned open, and Dante Moretti walked in. He hadn't brought a weapon. He didn't need one. He carried a pair of black leather gloves, slowly pulling them onto his long fingers as he approached the chair.
"Moretti!" Jake gasped, spitting blood onto the floor. "Look, man, I didn't know she was working for you! I swear to God! She’s just my girl! It’s a domestic dispute—the cops said it’s a civil matter!"
Dante stopped exactly two feet from the chair. He looked down at Jake as if looking at a stain on an otherwise clean floor. "A civil matter," Dante repeated softly. "Is that what your uncle at the fourth precinct called it when you broke her wrist last month?"
"She’s a liar!" Jake screamed, his voice cracking with rising hysteria. "She’s clumsy! She falls down the stairs! Ask anyone at the house!"
Dante didn't say a word. He reached out, took hold of Jake’s right hand, and with a sudden, casual twist of his wrist, snapped the pinky finger backward until the bone broke through the skin with a loud, wet crack.
Jake let out a deafening shriek, his body thrashing against the aircraft cables.
"That is for her wrist," Dante said calmly, his expression entirely unbothered by the violence. He grabbed the next finger. "This is for the rib she has to hold every time she takes a breath." Another crack, followed by another agonizing scream that died out into a pathetic whimper.
"Please... please, Moretti... I’ll leave the state! I’ll never look at her again!" Jake sobbed, his head hanging low as blood and tears mixed on his chin.
"You’re right," Dante said, pulling off his leather gloves and tossing them onto the metal desk nearby. "You won't look at her again. Because you are going to take a long, one-way trip to the lime pits in Indiana. But before you go, you are going to sign these."
Carmine stepped forward, dropping a thick stack of legal documents onto Jake’s lap.
"What... what are these?" Jake blurted out through his tears.
May you like
"Quit-claim deeds for the property on 47th Street," Carmine said, holding out a pen. "A full confession regarding your uncle’s bribery rings at the precinct, and a total release of any legal or personal claims to Emma Foster’s estate. Sign them with your left hand, Jake. You don't have a right one anymore."
Dante turned his back on the chair, walking toward the exit. "When he’s done signing, Carmine, clean the room. I don't want any garbage left in Cicero by morning."
