Chapter 12 - The Betrayal Inside the Court
Salvatore learned the pendant was gone while driving back from New York.
Marcello called.
His voice shook with anger.
“The evidence room was breached.”
Salvatore gripped the steering wheel.
“How?”
“Someone had courthouse credentials.”
“Who?”
“They are investigating.”
“Dante has both keys now.”
“Yes.”
“And Emery.”
“Yes.”
“And my father.”
Marcello said nothing.
Carlo sat in the passenger seat.
He stared at traffic-camera footage.
“We need Dante’s location before he opens whatever Vittorio was talking about.”
Salvatore called Isabella.
She answered from the police station.
“Francesca is still giving her statement.”
“Ask her where Dante would take my father.”
“She says she doesn’t know.”
“Ask again.”
Francesca came onto the phone.
“Salvatore.”
“Dante stole the pendant.”
Francesca inhaled.
“How?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“He has the ring?”
“Yes.”
“Emery?”
“Yes.”
Francesca became silent.
“Mother.”
“He’ll take them to Blackwater.”
Carlo looked toward Salvatore.
“What is Blackwater?”
Francesca answered through the phone.
“An old DeLuca shipping terminal near the Hudson.”
“Owned by whom?”
“Not officially us.”
“Address.”
She gave it.
Carlo began searching.
Nothing appeared under DeLuca.
But an abandoned freight property stood at the location.
Francesca continued.
“Dante used it years ago.”
“For what?”
“I never asked.”
“Start remembering.”
Francesca hesitated.
“He once kept Roberto there.”
Salvatore’s expression changed.
The same place Dante may have held his biological father.
That made psychological sense.
Dante returned to places where he believed he held power.
Carlo contacted law enforcement.
Salvatore drove faster.
Francesca remained on the line.
“Salvatore.”
“What?”
“If Vittorio is alive…”
Her voice broke.
He waited.
“Tell him I’m sorry.”
Salvatore’s face hardened.
“You can tell him yourself.”
“I don’t deserve to.”
“No.”
Salvatore looked through the windshield.
“You don’t.”
Francesca began crying quietly.
“But if he asks why—”
“I’m not carrying your confession for you.”
He ended the call.
Blackwater Terminal sat beside a neglected stretch of river.
Police approached quietly.
No visible guards.
No vehicles near the main entrance.
Thermal imaging detected movement deep inside.
Carlo stopped Salvatore.
“We wait.”
“My daughter is in there.”
“And rushing gets her hurt.”
Salvatore looked at him.
Every second felt like betrayal.
Then an officer approached.
“There is an underground section.”
Carlo looked at the plans.
Old storage tunnels ran beneath the terminal.
One connected to the river.
Dante could escape by boat.
They split teams.
Salvatore stayed with Carlo.
Technically, he was not supposed to enter.
Practically, nobody believed he would stay behind.
The breach happened at 6:14 p.m.
Officers entered from three sides.
The warehouse was empty.
A laptop played a looping video of Emery and Vittorio.
Not live.
Carlo cursed.
Salvatore looked around.
Dante anticipated them again.
Then he saw something on the floor.
A small wooden splinter.
Painted red.
From the rocking horse.
Emery had carried part of the broken horse?
He followed another splinter.
Then another.
A trail.
Vittorio.
Or Emery.
Someone had deliberately left markers.
The trail led toward a service elevator.
Police opened it.
The shaft descended.
They took stairs.
At the bottom, a long corridor stretched beneath the building.
More red splinters.
Salvatore’s heart pounded.
At the end they found a locked room.
Carlo forced it.
Inside was a chair.
Restraints.
Old blood stains.
A wall covered with photographs.
Salvatore stared.
Vittorio.
Sofia.
Isabella.
Francesca.
Marcello.
Salvatore.
Emery.
Dante had tracked them for years.
One photograph showed Vittorio entering Saint Raven.
Another showed Isabella buying groceries three states away.
One showed Emery at school.
Salvatore ripped it from the wall.
His daughter had been watched long before Christmas.
Carlo discovered a map.
Three locations were circled.
Ravenna.
Saint Raven.
And another property.
A private island in the Hudson.
Salvatore recognized the name.
Bellacqua.
Vittorio purchased it in the 1990s for corporate retreats.
It had been unused for years.
Carlo radioed the team.
Dante had led them to Blackwater as another delay.
Bellacqua was forty miles north.
The river offered direct access.
They moved immediately.
Halfway there, Salvatore received a call.
Dante.
“You found the photographs.”
Salvatore’s voice became ice.
“Where is Emery?”
“Beside me.”
“Put her on.”
A pause.
Then Emery’s voice.
“Daddy?”
Salvatore nearly stopped breathing.
“I’m coming.”
“I know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Grandpa is here.”
Salvatore closed his eyes.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s tired.”
Dante took the phone.
“Heartwarming.”
Salvatore looked at Carlo.
“Bellacqua.”
Dante laughed.
“You always were slow.”
The line went dead.
Carlo heard enough.
“He knows we found it.”
“Yes.”
“Then he may move again.”
Salvatore looked toward the dark river.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Bellacqua was Dad’s.”
Carlo waited.
“Dante wants to defeat him somewhere symbolic.”
Carlo nodded slowly.
“He’s staying.”
Bellacqua had one dock.
Police boats approached from south and north.
Helicopters remained back to avoid warning Dante.
Salvatore traveled with Carlo on a small tactical vessel.
The island appeared through winter fog.
A stone mansion stood near the center.
One light burned upstairs.
Salvatore’s phone rang again.
Not Dante.
Emery.
Somehow.
He answered instantly.
“Emery?”
She whispered.
“Daddy.”
“How are you calling?”
“Grandpa gave me a phone.”
Vittorio must have hidden one.
“Where are you?”
“In a big room.”
“Can you see outside?”
“Water.”
“Anything else?”
“A statue.”
Salvatore knew it.
The west wing overlooked Vittorio’s marble lion statue.
He signaled Carlo.
West wing.
Emery whispered.
“Daddy, Dante is opening Grandpa’s computer.”
“Stay with Grandpa.”
“He went downstairs.”
“Who?”
“Dante.”
“Good.”
Salvatore’s heart pounded.
“We are very close.”
Then Emery whispered something unexpected.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Grandpa said there’s one more bad person.”
Salvatore froze.
“What?”
“He said Dante couldn’t do all this alone.”
Carlo looked toward him.
Salvatore whispered.
“Did Grandpa say who?”
“No.”
A door sounded through the phone.
Emery inhaled sharply.
“Someone’s coming.”
“Hide the phone.”
“I love you.”
Salvatore’s throat tightened.
“I love you too.”
The call ended.
Carlo stared toward the island.
“One more bad person.”
“Yes.”
“Inside?”
“I don’t know.”
Police reached the dock.
The first team moved inland.
No resistance.
Too easy.
Salvatore hated it.
They reached the mansion.
The front door stood open.
Inside, music played.
Vittorio’s favorite opera.
Salvatore walked through the foyer.
A voice came from upstairs.
“Salvatore.”
His father.
Salvatore ran.
He found Vittorio sitting in the west bedroom.
Emery was beside him.
Alive.
Salvatore crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.
For several seconds, nothing else existed.
Then he looked at Vittorio.
Father and son stared at each other.
Eleven months disappeared.
Salvatore embraced him.
Vittorio whispered.
“You found me.”
Salvatore could barely answer.
“You’re alive.”
Vittorio smiled weakly.
“Apparently.”
Carlo entered.
“Where is Dante?”
Vittorio’s face changed.
“Below.”
“Doing what?”
“Opening the Founders Archive.”
Salvatore frowned.
“With both keys?”
“Yes.”
“And he needs Emery.”
Vittorio looked toward the child.
“He thought he did.”
Salvatore stared.
“You lied to him.”
Vittorio almost smiled.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep her alive.”
Salvatore understood.
Dante believed Emery was necessary.
That prevented him from harming her.
Carlo spoke.
“Then what actually opens the final archive?”
Vittorio looked toward Salvatore.
“You.”
Salvatore froze.
“Why me?”
“Because blood chooses the heir.”
Vittorio touched Emery’s hair.
“But love chooses the guardian.”
A gunshot echoed from below.
Everyone turned.
Carlo drew his weapon.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Vittorio whispered.
“He knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That the final archive names Salvatore as Emery’s guardian trustee.”
Carlo moved toward the door.
Salvatore handed Emery to Vittorio.
“Stay here.”
Emery grabbed him.
“No.”
“I’ll come back.”
“Promise?”
Salvatore looked at her.
“I promise.”
He followed Carlo downstairs.
The basement door stood open.
Inside the archive room, Dante was not alone.
A man stood beside him.
An older man.
Familiar.
Marcello.
Salvatore stopped.
Marcello held a gun.
Carlo stared at him.
Salvatore whispered.
“You.”
Marcello smiled sadly.
“I’m sorry.”
May you like
The final traitor had been beside them from the beginning.
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