Too Late, Don Moretti

e

escorted Julian, the drunken Don, back to her heavily guarded apartment. She had taken pains to ensure

chimed with a dire

t you there," t

illance system. I had installed the listening devices years ago for her protect

the hardwood floor. His voice came thro

he told Isabella. "She has fo

how a spike in activity. I knew Isabella was tracking my IP address

red th

olumns: every illicit dollar I had laundered through shell corporations, every bullet I had taken to keep him breathing, every rival I had tracked down, every drop of my own substance spent to b

the penthouse by a privat

sharp, and entirely unconcerned with the disarray of the night before. His e

his face. He assumed it was a peace offering for our anniversar

the timepiece. "I am taking Isabella to the Family's priv

llway. He utterly failed to notice my ow

s, the service elevator chimed softly. Two of Sasha's most discreet operatives stepped into the penthouse, men whose ears bore the misshapen scars of wrestlers. They spoke not a single word as they hoisted m

printed blood ledger flat on the table, moving the v

n you return," I said q

e step, I was struck. It was not a weight, but a sharp, p

ently expelled from my lungs. My vision blurred at the edges as

oward the kitchen counter. I reached up with trembling fingers and

ed nothing but c

as complet

ipsing the physical agony. I pulled my pho

into the speaker, th

lian's number. The phone rang twice

t posted a picture of Isabella standing on the deck of the coastal safeh

the room turned black. In a fina

ered on the

hing, edged with a profound annoyance. "This trip is a pun

hun

surrendered to the vise in my chest, collapsing into the dark. My last conscious thought was not of Julian, but of a