Chapter 5 - The Inside Man
By midnight, they were hiding out in a secure, abandoned shipping warehouse down by the Chicago harbor—one of the few properties Dante didn't control directly. The warehouse was cold, smelling of salt water, damp concrete, and rusting steel.
Adeline had set up a makeshift triage station on a wooden pallet, cleaning Nico’s shoulder wound with antiseptic while he sat stoically on a crate.
“Your brother’s surgery is confirmed for Monday,” Nico said quietly, breaking the silence as she wrapped sterile gauze around his arm. “I spoke directly with the chief of pediatric surgery. He’ll have the best care in the state.”
Adeline stopped wrapping, her fingers resting against his warm skin. She looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears of relief. “Thank you, Nico. Truly. But why go this far for me? You barely know me.”
“I know that out of thirty guests, three captains, and two security guards, you were the only person in that house willing to stand between me and a bullet—or a poison bottle,” Nico replied, his dark eyes holding hers captive. “In my world, loyalty like that is rarer than gold.”
Suddenly, the heavy metal roll-up door of the warehouse rattled. Heavy footsteps echoed from outside.
Adeline froze, reaching for her medical scissors as a weapon. Nico raised his pistol, aiming squarely at the center of the door.
The door lifted slowly. Standing in the dim light of the harbor lamps was not an assassin, but Vincenzo, holding a bloodied laptop and a heavy leather ledger.
“Boss,” Vincenzo panted, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. “I managed to pull the master financial logs before Dante’s men locked down the main compound. You were right about the poisoning. And you were right about the hit squad.”
Vincenzo tossed the laptop onto the wooden crate. Adeline stepped forward, rapidly typing in the decryption keys Nico dictated.
Files opened across the screen—bank transfers, offshore shell companies in the Cayman Islands, and signed medical consent forms authorizing experimental neurological suppressants.
“Look at the signature on the pharmaceutical orders,” Adeline pointed out, leaning over the screen.
Nico squinted at the glowing monitor. The signature wasn't Dante’s. It belonged to Marcus, Nico’s long-time chief of security—the very man who had stood silently by the door during the engagement party, watching the slap without moving an inch.
“Marcus,” Nico growled, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. “He’s been Dante’s inside man for five years.”
“And he’s currently heading the emergency board meeting at the downtown tower,” Vincenzo added grimly. “They’re voting to strip you of your majority shares by noon tomorrow, declaring you medically incompetent due to your ‘progressive neurological decline.’”
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Nico looked from the laptop screen to Adeline, then to Vincenzo. A dangerous, cold smile spread across his face—the smile of a true Alfieri boss preparing to reclaim his throne.
“Then we crash the board meeting,” Nico said.
