Chapter 8 - The Federal Echo
Javier stepped out of the shadows, holstering his weapon with a sharp click, his face grim as he looked down at Rocco.
“Boss, sirens coming up the access road,” Javier reported sharply. “Metro police, accompanied by federal marshals. Someone tipped them off the moment the electronic locks on Rocco’s safe were overridden.”
Carmine didn't blink. He kept his cold, dark gaze fixed on Rocco’s face. “You called the feds?”
“I didn't have to,” Rocco wheezed, laughing wetly through a mouthful of blood. “When a captain goes down, the automated dead-man switch uploads everything to the federal cloud. Every shell corporation, every bribe ledger, every hidden asset. Your five-year cleanup project is about to become a public spectacle, Carmine. And guess who owns the primary witness statement?”
Carmine’s jaw tightened. He let go of Rocco’s collar, letting the broken man slump back against the concrete like a discarded sack of trash.
Carmine turned his head slowly, his eyes finding mine across the dim, flickering light of the garage.
In that single look, a mountain of unspoken history shifted. He didn't need to say it. I saw the terrible calculus of his world crashing down around him. The empire he had spent years trying to purify was about to be dragged into the glaring light of a federal investigation, and anyone associated with the estate—including a humble household attendant with a bruised throat—was standing directly in the blast radius.
“Get Daniel out of here,” Carmine ordered Javier, his voice dropping into a hardened command. “Take him to the safehouse in Oak Lawn. Keep him off the grid until I clear the communications network.”
“And you, Boss?” Javier asked, hesitating.
May you like
“I have a meeting to attend,” Carmine replied smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of his white dress shirt as if he were preparing for a boardroom conference rather than an impending federal raid.
“No,” I said, standing up slowly from where I knelt beside Daniel. My voice shook, but the fear was gone, replaced by a cold, stubborn clarity. “I’m not running anymore, Carmine.”
