Page 115 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
“Your loyalty?” He spits blood onto the floor. “You don’t know what that word means. You never did.”
We’re circling each other now, both of us bleeding, both of us exhausted, moving around the altar like wolves sizing each other up before the kill.
“This didn’t have to happen,” Viktor says. “None of it. I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? You took my son.”
“To protect you from the truth about your father.” His eyes are intense. “The ledger, Dante. Do you have any idea what’s in it? What it says about your family? About the empire you inherited?”
“I know exactly what’s in it.”
That stops him. For a second, his guard drops.
“You know?”
“My investigators found fragments weeks ago. I know what my father did. The trafficking. The murders. All of it.”
“And you still came here? You still want that poison?”
“I want it destroyed. Or exposed. Either way, I want the truth out.”
Viktor shakes his head. “You’re a fool. That ledger will destroy everything your family built. Your legacy, your reputation, everything. Is that what you want your son to inherit? Shame and ruin?”
“My son deserves better than lies, and betrayal is betrayal,” I add coldly. “Regardless of whatever motive you think you had.”
Then I move first, but Viktor’s good, I’ll give him that. Fifteen years of training and combat experience don’t disappear just because you’re tired and bleeding. He blocks my first punch and counters with a knee aimed at my ribs that I barely dodge.
We trade blows in the shadow of the altar, grunting and bleeding and trying to kill each other with our bare hands. He catches me with an elbow to the jaw that makes me see stars and taste copper. I return the favor with a headbutt that opens a cut above his eye and sends him staggering backward.
We separate for a moment, both of us breathing hard. This is what fifteen years of partnership has come to. Two men who used to trust each other with their lives, now trying to end each other.
Blood is running into both our faces now. My ribs are screaming from that graze I took earlier. Viktor’s favoring his wounded leg, moving slower than he should.
But I’m not fighting for pride, money, or power. I’m fighting for my family, and that makes all the difference.
I catch his arm on the next swing and twist hard, feeling the joint give way with a wet pop. He hollers as his elbow dislocates, his arm bending in a twisted direction.
He tries to kick me with his good leg, but I’m ready for it. I drop low and sweep his feet out from under him, then bring my boot down on his knee before he can recover. The crunch sound is audible even over his screaming.
He collapses, writhing on the blood-stained floor, his arm and leg both useless now. I grab him by the collar and drag him up onto the altar, pinning him there with my weight while I pull the combat knife from my boot.
The blade presses against his throat.
“The ledger will destroy your family legacy,” he gasps out. “Your father’s crimes are documented in detail. Everything he did, every person he killed, every child’s life he ruined. You expose that and the Moretti name becomes poison.”
“I already told you. I know what’s in it.”
“Then you know what happens when it gets out. Your empire crumbles. Your allies abandon you. Your enemies smell blood in the water.”
“Good.” I press the knife harder, drawing a thin line of red. “Because I’m going to expose it all anyway. Every dirty secret. Every buried body. All of it.”
“Why? For what?”
“Because my son deserves better than lies. Better than a legacy built on blood and suffering. Better than growing up believing his family was something it never was.”
Viktor’s eyes widen as he sees the determination in my face. I’m not bluffing and I mean every word. His expression morphs into fear, finally. Bold of him to think I’d back down because the ledger contains dirt on my family.
“Dante, wait?—”
