Chapter 5 - The Fall of Moretti
The battle for the Vale estate lasted less than ten minutes.
Callum’s security team—former elite special forces operators who managed the estate’s outer perimeter—cut off every exit. The five hitmen Dominic Moretti had sent inside were systematically eliminated in the dark corridors of the mansion, caught in a lethal crossfire they never saw coming.
By 9:30 PM, the emergency lights flickered back on, illuminating the grand foyer.
Dominic Moretti sat bound to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the marble hall, his nose broken, bleeding onto his thousand-dollar suit. Four of Callum’s enforcers stood around him, their weapons drawn and ready.
Callum walked down the grand staircase slowly, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed and terrifying.
Maeve stood at the top of the landing, wrapped in Callum’s heavy wool overcoat, watching the scene unfold with quiet, steady eyes. She didn't shrink away from the violence. She knew Callum was fighting to protect the life they were building together.
"Vale!" Moretti spat, wiping blood from his lip. "You think you can hold Boston forever?! The Commission in New York will destroy you for this!"
Callum stopped at the bottom step. He didn't look angry. He looked bored.
"The Commission in New York didn't authorize this hit, Dominic," Callum said smoothly. "I spoke to Don Carmine twenty minutes ago. He was very disappointed to hear that you crossed state lines without approval to attack my home."
Moretti’s eyes widened in sudden, horrific realization. "Carmine... Carmine knows?"
"Carmine gave me his blessing to dispose of garbage," Callum replied coldly.
Callum walked over to Moretti’s chair, leaning down until his eyes were inches from the trembling man's face.
"You brought guns into the house where she sleeps," Callum whispered. "That was your second mistake. Your first was thinking I would let you live long enough to regret it."
Callum gestured to Leo. "Take him to the harbor. Put him in the deep water near Pier 4."
"No! Vale! Wait! Please!" Moretti screamed, thrashing against his ropes as two broad-shouldered enforcers dragged him out through the heavy front doors.
The grand hall fell completely silent once more.
Callum turned, looking up the staircase toward the second floor.
Maeve was standing on the landing, looking down at him.
The blood, the violence, the cold reality of his world hung in the air between them. For a second, Callum feared what he would see in her eyes—fear, disgust, horror.
Instead, Maeve walked slowly down the marble stairs. She stopped on the step right above him, bringing her eyes level with his.
She reached out, her soft fingers gently touching the side of his jaw, wiping a drop of stray blood from his cheek.
"Is it over?" she whispered softly.
Callum closed his eyes, leaning his head into her hand, savoring the soft, warm touch of her skin. "It's over, Maeve. The city is clean. Nobody will ever threaten us again."
May you like
Maeve smiled—a soft, breathtaking smile that lit up the entire dark foyer.
"Then come upstairs," she whispered, leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss against his lips. "Your Earl Grey is getting cold."
