Chapter 9: Blood Doesn't Choose a Family
Chapter 9: Blood Doesn't Choose a Family
The steel security gates crashed onto the concrete floor.
One behind us.
One ahead of us.
The corridor became a cage.
Victor's voice echoed through hidden speakers.
"You spent three years searching for the wrong heir."
His laughter faded.
Then...
Silence.
Only the distant rumble of trains passing beneath Manhattan remained.
I stood motionless, Daniel's recorder trembling in my hands.
Emma was mine.
My daughter.
My own flesh and blood.
Daniel had never lied about that.
But...
I was a Moretti.
Not because of marriage.
Not because of Alessandro.
Because I had been born one.
"No..."
I whispered.
"It isn't possible."
Alessandro remained equally still.
His eyes never left me.
Neither of us knew what to say.
Marco's voice suddenly crackled through our earpieces.
"Alessandro!"
The signal was weak.
Static swallowed every other word.
"...can you hear..."
"We're trapped," Alessandro answered.
"The underground gates closed automatically."
Marco's breathing became hurried.
"Get out now."
"Why?"
"We hacked the city surveillance."
"We found Conway."
Alessandro frowned.
"Conway was unconscious."
"He isn't anymore."
A pause.
Then Marco spoke words that froze both of us.
"He never worked for Victor."
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
"Explain."
"The wolf ring."
"We finally identified it."
Marco typed rapidly somewhere inside the mansion.
"It belongs to the Black Wolf Society."
"I've never heard of it."
"You weren't supposed to."
Another pause.
"They existed before the Moretti Empire."
My heartbeat quickened.
"What are they?"
Marco answered quietly.
"A private organization founded almost sixty years ago."
"No official records."
"No public members."
"Their purpose..."
He hesitated.
"...was choosing who controlled New York's largest family fortunes."
Alessandro looked stunned.
"You mean..."
"They didn't serve the Morettis."
"They controlled them."
I suddenly remembered something.
Daniel.
Two weeks before his death.
He had come home unusually quiet.
After Emma fell asleep, he sat on our apartment balcony staring across the river.
I had asked what was wrong.
He smiled sadly.
"Sometimes..."
"The people giving orders..."
"Aren't the people everyone blames."
At the time...
I thought he meant his construction supervisors.
Now...
I realized he had been talking about something far larger.
Marco continued.
"We recovered one partially deleted file."
"The title?"
"'Founding Families.'"
Alessandro's expression darkened.
"The Morettis..."
"Weren't founders."
"They were members."
The words echoed inside the empty corridor.
Victor.
Giovanni.
Matteo.
Even Alessandro.
None of them had truly controlled the empire.
Someone above them had.
The emergency lights flickered.
A metallic click echoed from somewhere behind the walls.
Alessandro immediately stepped in front of me.
"Stay behind me."
"What was that?"
"I don't know."
Another click.
Closer.
Then...
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Approaching from the darkness beyond the locked gate.
A silhouette appeared.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Gray overcoat.
Richard Conway.
Alive.
His forehead bled from where someone had struck him.
But he was walking.
Alone.
He stopped on the opposite side of the steel bars.
"I don't have much time."
Alessandro's voice became cold.
"You kidnapped Emma."
Conway shook his head.
"No."
"You had her."
"For less than five minutes."
"Who took her?"
Conway laughed bitterly.
"The same people who took me."
He rolled back his sleeve.
Dark bruises circled both wrists.
Fresh rope marks.
"They're everywhere."
"Who?"
"The Black Wolves."
"They've existed longer than Victor."
"Longer than Giovanni."
"They let families think they ruled."
"But every empire answered to them."
I stared at him.
"Why tell us now?"
His tired eyes met mine.
"Because Daniel died trying to destroy them."
The corridor fell silent.
Conway reached inside his coat.
Russo's voice exploded through Alessandro's earpiece.
"Gun!"
Conway slowly removed...
Not a weapon.
A folded photograph.
He pushed it beneath the gate.
Alessandro picked it up.
Four men stood together inside an old black-and-white photograph.
Giovanni Moretti.
Victor Moretti.
A younger Richard Conway.
And...
Dr. Mercer.
Behind them hung a large silver wolf emblem.
The photograph had been taken thirty years earlier.
On the back someone had handwritten six names.
Five were crossed out.
Only one remained.
THE CHAIRMAN
No name.
Only the title.
Conway pointed toward it.
"I never knew who he was."
"None of us did."
"We only received instructions."
"Through Victor."
Alessandro folded the photograph carefully.
"Where is Emma?"
Conway closed his eyes.
"I honestly don't know."
"But I know where she's going."
My heart pounded.
"Tell me."
"There are only two places secure enough."
"The Cathedral..."
"...or Blackstone House."
"Which one?"
"I don't know."
"They change locations constantly."
Suddenly...
A gunshot echoed through the tunnel.
Conway's body jerked violently.
Blood spread across his chest.
I screamed.
He stumbled backward against the opposite wall.
Another shot.
The corridor exploded into echoes.
Alessandro grabbed me and pulled me to the floor.
Concrete splintered where we'd been standing.
Someone was shooting from the darkness beyond Conway.
Conway slid slowly to the ground.
Still alive.
Barely.
He looked toward us.
Using the last of his strength...
He whispered,
"The Chairman..."
"...wears..."
Another cough.
Blood filled his mouth.
"...a bishop's ring..."
His head dropped.
He never finished the sentence.
The shooter never appeared.
Instead...
A smoke grenade rolled beneath the gate.
White smoke exploded across the corridor.
"We're moving!"
Alessandro shouted.
He wrapped one arm around me.
With the other...
He kicked repeatedly against the emergency release box mounted beside the gate.
Metal cracked.
Electrical sparks burst.
The locking mechanism failed.
The steel gate slowly lifted.
We ran.
The smoke swallowed everything behind us.
Five minutes later...
We emerged into the crowded main terminal.
Hundreds of commuters rushed past.
Nobody noticed us.
Nobody knew someone had just died beneath their feet.
Russo's convoy screeched to a halt outside the station entrance.
He jumped out immediately.
"Where's Emma?"
I simply shook my head.
He understood.
"We lost her."
"No."
Alessandro answered quietly.
"They wanted us to lose her."
Back inside the Moretti mansion...
The ballroom had become a command center.
Digital city maps covered enormous screens.
Private investigators.
Cybersecurity experts.
Former intelligence officers.
Every available resource had arrived.
Marco hurried toward us.
"I found something."
He displayed a city map.
Dozens of small red dots blinked across Manhattan.
"What am I looking at?" I asked.
"Private surveillance cameras."
"They all captured the same black SUV."
The vehicle appeared at six separate intersections.
Always exactly three minutes apart.
Impossible.
"Six vehicles?"
Marco nodded.
"All identical."
"Fake license plates."
"They split after leaving Queensboro Bridge."
Russo cursed.
"They cloned the convoy."
Alessandro stared at the map.
"No."
"What?"
"They cloned the hostage."
Marco frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Alessandro zoomed into one traffic camera.
A tiny face appeared inside the rear window.
Emma.
He opened another camera.
Another Emma.
Then another.
Six identical little girls.
Same gray blanket.
Same brown rabbit.
Same blond curls.
My blood turned cold.
"No..."
Marco enhanced the images.
Each child wore the same pink sweater.
The same rabbit.
The same hairstyle.
The kidnappers had disguised six different little girls to look exactly like Emma.
Six vehicles.
Six false hostages.
Six possible locations.
Russo whispered,
"Which one is real?"
Nobody answered.
Because nobody could.
Then...
One final notification appeared on Marco's screen.
A new video had just been uploaded to the mansion server.
Anonymous sender.
No traceable source.
Alessandro opened it.
The recording lasted only fifteen seconds.
Emma sat alone beneath a hanging light.
She looked directly into the camera.
This time...
Nobody forced her to speak.
She smiled weakly.
"Mama..."
She hugged her rabbit tighter.
"I'm okay."
Then she held something toward the camera.
A small folded piece of paper.
The image froze before we could read it.
Marco enlarged the frame.
Inside Emma's tiny hand...
One sentence was written in Daniel's handwriting.
DON'T TRUST THE POLICE.
The video ended.
Silence filled the ballroom once more.
Then Russo slowly removed his earpiece.
His face had become completely expressionless.
Alessandro noticed immediately.
"What is it?"
Russo answered quietly.
"The Police Commissioner..."
"...just arrived."
He looked toward the mansion entrance.
"And he's wearing..."
His voice trailed off.
Everyone turned toward the front doors.
The commissioner stepped inside wearing a long black coat.
As he removed his leather gloves to shake Alessandro's hand...
A heavy gold ring caught the chandelier light.
Engraved upon it...
May you like
Was the head of a silver wolf.
To be continued...
