Part 3: The Aftermath
Damiano’s tailored charcoal suit was immaculate, save for a thin streak of gray soot across his left shoulder. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and a faint smell of burnt copper and high explosives clung to his tall frame. He didn't look like a man who had just cheated death by a matter of seconds. He looked like an apex predator that had just caught the scent of blood.
He locked eyes with me, then shifted his gaze down to Emma, who peeked out from behind my skirt.
“The device has been neutralized,” Damiano said, his voice deep, smooth, and chillingly devoid of emotion. “Plutonium-laced kinetic charge. Small enough to fit in the palm of a hand, powerful enough to vaporize everyone within a thirty-foot radius. It was wired directly into the smart-desk's structural relay system.”
I swallowed hard, my mouth bone-dry. “Who... who put it there?”
“A professional,” Damiano replied, walking slowly toward us, his polished leather shoes making no sound on the thick Persian rug. He stopped a few feet away, kneeling down once more so he was eye level with Emma.
“Brave girl,” Damiano murmured, reaching out with a large, calloused hand to gently touch the edge of Emma’s doll. “You saved more lives tonight than you can possibly understand. What’s your name?”
“Emma,” she whispered shyly.
A ghost of a smile touched the corners of Damiano’s lips—a rare, fleeting softening of his hard features. “Emma. A strong name.” He stood back up, his eyes snapping back to mine with razor-sharp intensity. “And you are Sophia. The temporary catering lead assigned by the agency.”
“Yes,” I managed to squeak out. “Mr. Moretti, please... we saw nothing. We won't say a word to anyone. Just let us leave. Please. We can take the subway, we won't tell the police—”
“The police?” Damiano cut me off with a dry, humorless chuckle. “Sophia, look around you. The police do not exist in this building. Outside these walls, the five dons of the East Coast syndicate are pulling up in their armored motorcades right now, expecting to sign a historic treaty. And one of them—or someone very close to them—just tried to blow us all to kingdom come.”
The gravity of the situation crashed down on me with suffocating weight. We were trapped in a fortress with five rival mafia bosses, a failed assassin, and a syndicate leader who dispensed his own brand of absolute justice.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Damiano checked his heavy platinum wristwatch. The diamond-encrusted bezel caught the dim light of the parlor.
“The guests have arrived,” he said coldly. “And the meeting must proceed as scheduled. But the game has changed. Come with me.”
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“Wh-where?”
“To the boardroom,” Damiano said, turning toward the door. “You and Emma are going to stand right beside me while I expose the traitor. And when I ask your daughter to identify the shiny lady she mentioned earlier, she is going to point her finger.”
