Chapter 10 - The Trap Sprung
The abandoned railway depot on 47th Street was a cavernous tomb of rusted steel, cracked concrete, and overgrown weeds. Sunlight slanted through shattered skylights, illuminating clouds of dust.
At exactly 11:55 AM, I pushed open the heavy rusted side door and walked down the center aisle of the depot. My heels clicked loudly on the concrete, echoing against the corrugated iron walls.
At the far end of the warehouse, Roman stood next to an idling black SUV. Two of his remaining loyal capos stood flanking him with automatic rifles. Tied to a wooden chair near the bumper was Leo, his lip split and bleeding, his eyes wide with terror.
“Evelyn!” Leo choked out against the duct tape over his mouth.
“Shut him up,” Roman barked without looking away from me.
Roman looked unhinged. His hair was disheveled, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes, and the tailored elegance he usually wore like armor had eroded into desperate savagery.
“You came,” Roman said, stepping forward, a heavy revolver resting casually in his right hand. “I knew you would. You always had a soft spot for your useless brother.”
“Let him go, Roman,” I said, stopping twenty yards away. My voice was steady, perfectly controlled. “You have me. Leo has nothing to do with the contracts.”
“Leo is insurance,” Roman sneered, pacing toward me. “You signed my death warrant with those frozen accounts, Evelyn! The New York families canceled my credit line this morning! They’re backing Dante Vale! Me—Roman Castellano—sidelined for a street-born bastard!”
“You sidelined yourself when you thought loyalty was something you could buy and discard,” I retorted.
“Sign the emergency power of attorney,” Roman ordered, pulling a folded legal document from his coat pocket and throwing it onto the dirt between us. “Sign it, and I let you and the boy take a flight to Europe. Refuse… and you both stay here permanently.”
I looked down at the paper, then back up at Roman.
“No.”
Roman’s eyes widened in disbelief, then flared with rabid fury. He raised the revolver, leveling it directly at my chest. “You think I won't pull this trigger? You think I give a damn anymore?”
“I know you won't,” I said calmly. “Because you’re not looking at the rafters, Roman.”
From the shadows above the rusted girders, half a dozen red laser dots blossomed simultaneously across Roman’s chest, forehead, and heart.
The heavy rolling doors at both ends of the depot slammed open with a deafening crash. Four armored black Suburbans screeched into the warehouse, blocking every exit, their high beams blinding Roman’s men.
Dante stepped out of the lead vehicle, holding a suppressed assault rifle. Behind him poured twenty heavily armed operatives from the Vale syndicate, weapons trained on Roman’s men.
“Drop the guns!” Dante’s lieutenant shouted through a megaphone.
Roman’s two capos didn't hesitate. Seeing the sheer force and the sniper dots painting their boss, they dropped their rifles onto the concrete and raised their hands in surrender.
“Cowards!” Roman screamed, spinning around, his gun shaking violently. “Vale! You coward!”
Dante walked forward, calm and commanding, until he stood right beside me. He didn't even raise his rifle; he simply stared at Roman like an exterminator looking at a roach.
“Untie the boy,” Dante commanded.
Two of Dante’s men sprinted forward, cut Leo’s zip-ties, and pulled him safely behind our defensive line. Leo threw his arms around me, sobbing, and I held him tight, whispering that it was finally over.
Roman fell to his knees in the dust, the revolver slipping from his limp fingers. He looked up at me, his face pale, shattered, completely stripped of power.
“Evelyn…” Roman choked out, a pathetic, desperate plea breaking through his arrogance. “Please… we can fix this. Remember what we had. You loved me. Four years… you loved me!”
I looked down at the man who had tried to break my spirit, who had flaunted his mistress in front of the world to keep me compliant, who had threatened my family.
“I loved the idea of a husband who protected me,” I said, my voice cold as winter ice. “You were just an executioner in an expensive suit. Goodbye, Roman.”
Dante signaled his men. They dragged Roman to his feet and cuffed him, stripping him of his weapons, his phone, and his dignity.
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“Take him to the federal prosecutor’s safehouse,” Dante ordered. “Let him trade his capos to avoid life in ADX Florence. He isn't a boss anymore. He’s just a state witness.”
***
