Chapter 3 - The Arrival at LoganAt 11:45 PM, the heavy rain over Boston turned into a cold, blinding fog that hung low over the tarmac of Logan International Airport.
Inside the private aviation terminal, the double glass doors blew open with a violent force as twelve broad-shouldered men in tailored dark suits swept into the lobby.
Walking in the center of the security perimeter, his long black wool coat unbuttoned, his dark hair slightly disheveled, was Alessandro Moretti.
At thirty-four, Alessandro looked more lethal, broad, and imposing than ever. His storm-gray eyes—the same gray eyes my ten-month-old daughter had inherited—were dark as mountain ice, burning with an unhinged, obsessive intensity that made every airport attendant lower their eyes in terror.
Walking beside him, trying frantically to keep up with his long strides, was his chief lieutenant and childhood friend, Marco.
"Don Alessandro!" Marco urged, holding a tablet displaying local Boston police frequencies. "The local precinct has confirmed that the apartment in South Boston was leased eleven months ago under the name Elena Vance. But our local surveillance team says the apartment is completely empty!"
Alessandro stopped in the middle of the private lobby. His posture was six-foot-three of pure, rigid muscle, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned paper-white.
"She was there forty minutes ago, Marco," Alessandro spoke, his baritone a low, velvet rumble that chilled the air in the room. "She watched the interview. She heard what I said."
"Sir, Valentina is calling from New York," Marco added nervously, holding out a buzzing phone. "She's hysterical. The press is claiming you abandoned her on the red carpet—"
Alessandro grabbed the phone from Marco's hand and tossed it flat against the marble floor.
CRASH!
The phone shattered into a hundred glittering plastic and glass fragments.
"I don't care about Valentina!" Alessandro roared, a raw, terrifying sound that echoed off the high glass ceilings. "I never cared about Valentina! She was a distraction! A decoy to keep the Genovese family's eyes off my home while I restructured the shipping lines!"
Marco swallowed hard, his eyes wide with sudden shock. "A... a decoy, Don Alessandro?"
Alessandro stepped up to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, staring out into the foggy Boston night, his breathing heavy and ragged.
"I spent seven years keeping Elena in the shadows because I thought it would protect her from my enemies," Alessandro rasped, his voice cracking with a rare, terrifying vulnerability. "And like a fool, I let her walk away because I thought she would be safer without me. But when I saw that empty ring on my desk twelve months ago... I realized I had built an empire for a ghost."
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He turned his dark gray eyes toward Marco, a razor-sharp, lethal fire igniting in his carved features.
"Find her, Marco," Alessandro commanded flatly. "Lock down every harbor, every private airstrip, and every train station in New England. I am not leaving Boston without my wife."
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