Chapter 9 - The Commission Meeting
In the formal dining room, sunlight filtered through the grand stained-glass windows, illuminating a thirty-foot mahogany table.
Vincent Moretti sat at the head of the table, wearing a fresh suit, sipping espresso. Sitting along the table were three older men in expensive dark coats—senior leaders of Boston's allied families who held votes on the regional syndicate council.
"Adrian's condition is terminal, gentlemen," Vincent was saying smoothly, placing his cup on the saucer. "Dr. Reynolds informed me this morning that brain activity is minimal. For the stability of our shipping operations along the docks, we need a unified voice immediately."
"It seems sudden, Vincent," one of the older bosses remarked, leaning back in his chair. "Adrian was healthy two days ago."
"Life is fragile, Don Carmine," Vincent sighed, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "Tragedies happen. As his brother, it falls on my shoulders to carry the family honor—"
The heavy double doors of the dining room exploded inward.
Dante Russo walked into the room, holding his pistol at his side. Beside him walked Elena Castillo, wearing her clean housekeeping apron, holding a digital tablet connected to the security console.
And walking right between them was Titan.
The giant Cane Corso didn't wear a leash. He walked with a slow, dominant march, his dark eyes locked onto Vincent at the head of the table.
Vincent stood up instantly, his face turning pale. "Dante! What is the meaning of this intrusion?! I am in a private meeting with the council!"
"The meeting is over, Vincent," Dante said flatly.
Elena stepped forward, placing the digital tablet on the center of the thirty-foot table and hitting play.
The high-definition video of Vincent dropping the poison vial into the potted fern played in crisp detail for all three council bosses to see.
Don Carmine leaned forward, his old eyes narrowing as he watched the recording. He looked at the timestamp, then looked up at Vincent.
"Is this authentic, Dante?" Don Carmine asked, his voice dropping into an ice-cold tone.
"Recorded from Adrian's private secondary deck," Dante confirmed. "And we recovered the vial from the fern thirty minutes ago. It contains traces of industrial nerve toxin matching the poison found in Adrian's bloodstream."
The three council bosses stood up from the table instantly, stepping away from Vincent as if he carried a contagious disease.
"You broke the cardinal rule, Vincent," Don Carmine whispered, his eyes filled with absolute disgust. "Kinslayer."
"It's a fake!" Vincent screamed, backing toward the curtained windows. "She's a maid! She edited the footage! Dante is trying to frame me so he can take over the family!"
Titan let out a deep, chest-rattling roar that echoed through the crystal chandelier overhead.
The dog didn't wait for a command.
He charged down the length of the thirty-foot mahogany table, jumping over chairs, and pinned Vincent against the heavy velvet curtains, his jaws snapping shut three inches from Vincent's face.
Vincent shrieked, collapsing onto his knees, covering his face with his arms. "DON'T LET HIM KILL ME! PLEASE! I CONFESS! I DID IT! I DID IT!"
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Dante walked over calmly, pulled a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt, and snapped them around Vincent's wrists while Titan held the traitor pinned to the floor.
"Take him to the warehouse," Don Carmine commanded softly, looking at Dante. "We will wait until Adrian wakes up to let him decide his brother's final fate."
