Chapter 18 - The judgment at the docks
Rain began to pour over the private marina as Salvatore Moretti limped toward the gangplank of his luxury yacht, his remaining two bodyguards nervously scanning the darkness. The engines of the massive vessel were already idling, water churning white beneath the stern.
"Hurry up, you idiots!" Salvatore barked, clutching his gold-headed cane. "Once we reach international waters, Sterling cannot touch us!"
"You aren't reaching international waters, Uncle," a clear, ringing voice echoed through the downpour.
Salvatore froze. Emerging from the shadows of the shipping containers were Marcus Sterling and Grace, flanked by twenty armed operatives whose weapons formed an unbroken perimeter around the dock. Grace wore a dark trench coat, her hair damp from the rain, her eyes blazing with absolute vengeance.
"You survived," Salvatore hissed, turning slowly. "And you brought the girl to witness your death?"
"No," Marcus said, stepping aside and allowing Grace to take center stage. "I brought the head of the Moretti family to pass sentence on a traitor."
Grace held up the satellite phone, playing an audio recording that boomed across the empty marina. It was Salvatore’s own voice from three years ago, promising Julianna’s doctor five million euros to falsify the autopsy report and declare her poisoning as liver failure.
"That recording was uploaded ten minutes ago to the High Council of the Italian Syndicate in Rome," Grace stated calmly. "They have already stripped you of your name, your assets, and your protection. You are no longer an uncle. You are a dead man walking."
May you like
Salvatore’s face turned gray. He looked at his two bodyguards, but the men had already dropped their weapons, stepping away from him with their hands raised. In the underworld, betrayal of blood was unforgivable.
Desperate and cornered, Salvatore reached inside his coat for a hidden snub-nosed revolver, aiming directly at Grace's heart. "If I go down, the last Moretti dies with me!"
