Chapter 8 - THE LAST BELLANO KING
Two nights later, sixty men gathered inside the burned shell of Mariner House.
Federal agents waited outside.
Vincent had made a deal.
Not immunity.
Accountability.
He would testify about everything he knew.
In return, anyone who walked away from Angelo peacefully would be allowed to surrender.
Vincent entered alone.
I watched through a hidden camera.
Angelo stood where the dance floor used to be.
“You came.”
“You summoned me.”
“I made you.”
Vincent stopped.
“No.”
Angelo smiled.
“I gave you everything.”
“You gave me fear.”
“I gave you power.”
“You gave me enemies.”
“I gave you a name.”
Vincent removed his dark glasses.
His damaged eyes faced his father.
“And I spent half my life believing I owed you for it.”
Silence.
“I'm done paying.”
Angelo ordered the captains to choose.
Him.
Or Vincent.
Nobody moved.
Then Vincent did something extraordinary.
He refused leadership.
“There is no Bellano king after tonight.”
Murmurs spread.
“The businesses become legitimate or they disappear. The trafficking routes close. The extortion stops. Anyone who wants Angelo can stand beside him.”
Nobody did.
Angelo's entire world collapsed without a shot.
Then he pulled a gun.
Not at Vincent.
At me.
I hadn't realized he'd spotted the camera position.
He fired.
Glass shattered.
Vincent heard me fall.
“Claire!”
The bullet grazed my shoulder.
I was alive.
Vincent attacked Angelo.
Father and son crashed onto the ruined floor.
Angelo's gun skidded away.
Vincent pinned him.
“Do it,” Angelo whispered.
Vincent's fist tightened.
“Kill me.”
He wanted it.
One final inheritance.
One final act that would make Vincent exactly like him.
Vincent released him.
“No.”
Police entered.
Angelo screamed as they handcuffed him.
“You're weak!”
Vincent stood.
“No.”
He turned toward my voice.
“I'm finished being you.”
May you like
And walked away.
---
