Chapter 7 - The Trial of Blood
The ballroom exploded into chaos as the Capos realized the extent of Leo and Valenti's treason against the Commission laws. Don Carmine slammed his wooden gavel onto the table, his face dark with fury.
"Treason against the Commission is punishable by death," Carmine boomed. "Leo Moretti, Don Valenti, you have broken the sacred pact of the neutral grounds by fabricating evidence against a family Don."
Panicked, Valenti reached into his coat—breaking the sacred rule of the neutral chamber by drawing a concealed pistol aimed directly at Dante.
"Dante, look out!" I screamed.
Everything moved in terrifying slow motion. Dante didn't try to dodge. His first instinct was to throw his body in front of Eli and me, wrapping his massive frame around us like an impenetrable shield.
A shot echoed through the hall, but it didn't come from Valenti’s gun.
Marco had drawn his weapon from the doorway, firing a single round that struck Valenti squarely in the chest. Valenti collapsed onto the marble floor, his weapon skittering across the smooth stone.
Leo turned to run toward the fire exit, but Dante moved like a panther. He sprang forward, tackling Leo to the ground before he could reach the doors. Dante slammed his cousin against the stone floor, pinning his throat with a heavy forearm.
"You tried to ruin my family," Dante growled, his voice deep and shaking with pure rage. "You stole seven years of my son's life."
"Dante... please..." Leo gasped, choking for air. "We're blood..."
"Blood doesn't make you family," Dante whispered cold as ice. "Loyalty does."
Dante looked up at Don Carmine. The old arbiter gave a slow, solemn nod of approval.
With a swift, practiced motion, Dante ended the threat, securing his position as the undisputed supreme Don of the syndicate once and for all.
Silence fell over the massive ballroom. The remaining guards immediately lowered their weapons, bowing their heads in deference to Dante.
Dante stood up, adjusting his suit jacket, his chest heaving. He turned back toward us. Eli was hiding his face against my coat, trembling, but unhurt.
Dante walked over slowly, dropping to both knees in front of Eli. He reached out with trembling, blood-stained hands, then hesitated, wiping them clean on his handkerchief before touching our son's shoulder.
"It's over, Eli," Dante said, his voice soft, cracked with tears. "It's all over. Nobody will ever threaten us again."
May you like
Eli looked up, seeing the raw emotion in his father's eyes, and threw his small arms around Dante's neck. Dante buried his face in Eli's shoulder, weeping quietly as he held the son he had lost for seven long years.
I knelt beside them, placing my hand over Dante's back, feeling the tension finally leave his massive frame.
