Chapter 6 - The Shift of Power
The cold steel barrel of Rocco’s pistol shifted away from Daniel’s temple just enough to catch the flickering yellow light of the overhead fluorescent bulb, pointing directly at my chest.
“Step closer, little cleaning girl,” Rocco snarled, his voice pitched high with the manic energy of a cornered animal. “Let’s see how brave you are when it’s your blood staining the concrete instead of a copper pan.”
Daniel let out a choked cry, struggling against the truck bed, but Rocco slammed the butt of the gun against my brother’s collarbone, forcing him back down with a harsh grunt.
“Don't touch him!” I screamed, taking an involuntary step forward before my boots froze on the slick slush.
“Elena, stop,” Carmine commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an absolute, freezing authority that cut through the raw panic in the garage.
Carmine hadn't flinched. He hadn't drawn his weapon. He stood completely relaxed, his hands still loosely at his sides, but his dark eyes were locked onto Rocco with a predatory stillness that made the air feel heavier.
“You’re out of moves, Rocco,” Carmine said softly, taking a deliberate half-step forward. “The board members voted to freeze your offshore accounts twenty minutes ago. Javier has your second-in-command secured in the basement, and the port authorities have already impounded your shipping containers. There is no escape route.”
“You think I care about money right now?” Rocco shrieked, spittle flying as his grip on the trigger tightened. “I built this syndicate with your father! I bled for the Moretti name while you were sitting in corporate boardrooms playing diplomat! You want to protect the maid? Fine. Let’s see how well she cleans up a funeral.”
Rocco’s finger began to whiten against the trigger.
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Time seemed to fracture. I saw the micro-twitch in Rocco’s wrist, the desperate glazing of his eyes, and knew he was going to fire.
Then, a deafening crack split the air.
