Chapter 16 - Retribution Begins
By noon the following day, the lake house was cleaned, and the dead were buried in unmarked graves sixty feet beneath the Wisconsin timberline.
I relocated my entire operation to the *Moretti Sovereign*, a 180-foot ice-class explorer yacht anchored twelve miles offshore in Lake Michigan, completely outside local police jurisdiction and unreachable by land-based strike teams.
The yacht was a floating fortress. Twenty private security contractors, radar-guided anti-aircraft countermeasures, and full satellite encryption.
On the main deck, the sun was shining brightly against the blue water.
The four boys were running in circles around the heated pool, wearing matching life vests, laughing as Marco tossed plastic beach balls into the water for them to fetch.
Elena sat in a plush lounge chair, wrapped in a cashmere blanket, sipping hot tea while two armed guards kept watch at the perimeter stairs. For the first time in four years, the terror had completely vanished from her eyes.
"They're fast, Boss," Marco shouted, wiping sweat from his forehead as Lucas dodged around his legs. "Lucas has got the footwork of a middleweight boxer!"
I stood near the helm controls, watching them with a cigar unlit between my teeth.
Dante approached, holding a secure satellite dossier.
"Alejandro," Dante spoke respectfully, keeping his voice low so the children wouldn't hear. "Carmine Valenti has barricaded himself inside his downtown penthouse. He’s called in every debt from the Five Families. He knows Silvio is dead, and he knows you're coming."
"Let him call them," I said, striking a match and lighting the cigar. "In fact, call an emergency Commission summit for tomorrow night. All five Chicago Don families. Tell them the Moretti Don demands an audience."
Dante blinked in shock. "The Commission? Valenti will use the summit to claim you've violated the code. He’ll demand the other Dons sanction your execution."
"Let him try," I said, blowing a thick ring of gray smoke into the lake breeze. "Tomorrow, Carmine Valenti learns what happens when you touch a Moretti's blood."
Mateo suddenly broke away from his brothers and ran up the stairs to the helm deck, clutching a small piece of paper.
"Papa! Look!"
I crouched down, meeting him at eye level.
He thrust the paper into my hands. It was a crude drawing using Julian's colored markers. Four small stick figures in blue, one large stick figure in black wearing a crown, and a woman in white with golden angel wings hovering above them.
"That's Sofia," Mateo pointed to the angel. "She told me in my dream that you're the king now. And kings don't lose."
My throat tightened. I folded the drawing carefully and placed it into the breast pocket of my suit, directly over my heart.
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"You're right, Mateo. Kings don't lose."
***