Chapter 4 - Whispers of the Dead
The buzzing was faint, muffled by fabric, but in the dead silence of the dining room, it sounded like a chainsaw.
Sylvio’s eyes swept the table.
Eddie Bell’s hands were visibly shaking, but his pockets were empty. Vincent Caruso didn't move, his cold eyes fixed on the man to his right.
Marco Torino slowly reached into the inner pocket of his bespoke Italian suit jacket. His hand was trembling. He pulled out a small, cheap burner phone. The screen was glowing in the dim light of the room.
"Marco," Sylvio said, his voice dropping to a register that made the windowpanes vibrate. "Tell me that is your bookie."
Marco looked at the phone, then at Sylvio. The mask of the loyal underboss, the lifelong friend, the brother-in-arms, slowly crumbled, leaving behind the hollow, desperate face of a man who knew he had reached the end of his road.
"Sylvio... you don't understand," Marco whispered, his voice cracking. "He has my son. Leo. He has him in South America. He sent me a finger, Sylvio. Two weeks ago. What was I supposed to do?"
Sylvio did not blink. "You were supposed to come to me. We are the Romano family. We don't bend to ghosts. We hunt them down."
"He would have killed him!" Marco cried out, tears finally spilling over his aged cheeks. "Tony is insane, Sylvio! He’s not the man we knew. The fire... it didn't kill him, but it burned something inside his head. He’s been planning this for fifteen years. He has a whole army of mercenaries, funded by the cartel in Colombia. He’s going to take everything."
"And you helped him," Sylvio said, his heart hardening into stone. "You put poison in my plate."
"I didn't know about the poison!" Marco pleaded, leaning across the table. "I swear to God, Sylvio! He told me he just wanted to capture you, to force you to sign over the port concessions. I didn't know he was going to kill you! Not like that. Not with poison."
Sylvio looked at Vincent.
Vincent stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over Marco.
"Take him to the basement," Sylvio said quietly. "Keep him alive. I want to know everything Tony told him. Every meeting place, every bank account, every contact."
"Sylvio, please!" Marco screamed as Vincent grabbed him by the collar, dragging him effortlessly toward the side door. "We were brothers! Sylvio!"
The door slammed shut, cutting off Marco’s cries.
Eddie Bell sat frozen, his mouth open, terrified to even breathe.
Sylvio looked down at the crumpled paper Luna had brought him. He then looked at the little girl, who was standing quietly by his side, watching the entire exchange without flinching. She had seen worse on the streets; she knew what survival looked like.
"You did well, Luna," Sylvio said, his voice softening as he turned to her. "You have no idea how much you have saved us today."
"Is the bad man going to come here?" she asked, her voice small.
"No," Sylvio said, standing up and gently placing his hand on her shoulder. "We are going to find him first."
He looked at Eddie. "Eddie, get out. Go to your office, lock the door, and don't leave until Vincent tells you it’s safe. If I find out you had even a whisper of this, you won't make it to the basement."
"Yes, Mr. Romano. Thank you, Mr. Romano," Eddie stammered, scrambling out of his chair and practically running out of the room.
Sylvio was left alone with Luna in the massive, quiet dining room. He looked at the silver fork, then at the little girl who had changed the course of his life.
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"Come," Sylvio said, offering her his hand. "Let’s get you some breakfast. Mrs. Gable made pancakes."
For the first time since she had entered his life, a small, genuine smile broke across Luna’s face.
