Chapter 15: In Pursuit of Moretti

Ethan sat in Elena's car, staring out the window. The city's neon lights flickered on the rain-soaked streets, reflecting like a blurry mirror. Carver's death was still fresh in his mind; the bullet hole in his forehead, the blood spreading across the concrete, Elena's cold composure. But this victory hadn't brought him peace—only the urge to focus on the next target. Moretti was still alive, hiding in Donati's shadow, waiting as the next link in the chain of vengeance Ethan was chasing.

Elena sat calmly at the wheel, her hands steady on the leather-covered steering wheel, her eyes never leaving the road. "Moretti will be at Donati's underground casino," she said, her voice cold yet controlled. "For his weekly meeting. The security is tight, the doors are steel, cameras are everywhere. But I can get us an advantage from the inside." Her words sounded like a chess player explaining their next moves—calculated, but filled with risks that could go wrong at any moment.

Ethan shook his head slightly, but the unease inside him grew. "What if the plan doesn't work?" he asked, a note of doubt in his voice. "If Moretti sees me, it's over. He'll go straight to Donati, and we'll both be hunted."

A thin smile appeared on Elena's lips, but her eyes stayed fixed on the road. "Moretti's weakness is his arrogance," she said. "We'll lure him into a trap. He thinks you're dead—that's our biggest advantage. In his eyes, you're nothing but a ghost, Ethan. But that ghost will become his nightmare." There was satisfaction in her voice, as if imagining Moretti's downfall gave her pleasure.

As the car neared the heart of the city, Ethan fidgeted with the gun in his pocket. The cold metal gave him a strange sense of security, but its weight also pressed down on his shoulders. "What if Donati figures out you're playing him?" he asked, his voice low but sharp. "Your father's not stupid, Elena. Carver's death might raise suspicions."

Elena fell silent for a moment, the only sounds were the soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic tap of rain against the windshield. Then she turned her head slightly, her green eyes meeting his for a brief moment. "My father trusts me," she said, her voice firm. "For now. If we take down Moretti, he'll see my power. Carver's death will look like an accident; the explosion at the docks will be written off as a gang conflict in the police reports. But you have to move fast. Moretti's like a dog with a scent, and he'll run."

When they reached the casino, the car turned down a narrow street. The building, from the outside, looked like an old warehouse—rusty signs, broken windows, an abandoned feel. But Ethan knew it was just a disguise. Elena turned off the engine and turned to him. "You'll enter through the back door," she said, pulling a small key from her coat pocket and handing it to him. "It's for the staff entrance. I'll go in front to distract Moretti. Stay in the shadows, and move when the time is right."

Ethan took the key, his fingers brushing against Elena's cold skin. "You trust me," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Why?"

Elena looked at him, something flashing in her eyes for a moment—perhaps ambition, or something else. "I don't trust you, Ethan," she said, her voice honest but sharp. "But I need you. I can't do this alone. You're a tool, but a good one. Now, get ready."

Ethan opened the door, the rain hitting his face. The street's smell filled his nostrils—wet asphalt, decaying trash, and distant exhaust fumes. Elena walked ahead, her heels echoing on the stone pavement. Ethan stayed in the shadows, heading toward the back door. He slipped the key into the lock, and the rusty hinges squeaked, but the door opened.

Inside, a dim corridor stretched ahead, its walls swollen with moisture, and plaster peeling off in places. But the sounds coming from the end of the corridor—laughter, clinking glasses—made it clear this was a casino.

He slipped inside, his footsteps silent. He pushed aside a curtain at the end of the corridor and peered into the main gambling hall. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and whiskey. Cards were being dealt at tables, customers chatting and laughing loudly. In the middle of the room, the VIP section stood elevated; red velvet chairs, golden details, and at the head of the table, Moretti. He was a stout, heavy-set man, but his eyes were sharp, like those of a predator. Four men stood with him, all armed, all alert. Moretti, with a cigar in his hand, exhaled smoke while speaking to his men.

Ethan waited in the shadows, holding his breath. Elena had entered ahead of him, now walking toward Moretti's table. Her red hair shimmered in the light, her suit perfect. When Moretti saw her, he raised an eyebrow, putting his cigar down on the table. "Elena," he said, his voice thick and greasy. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

Elena approached the table, a fake expression of concern on her face. "Carver's missing," she said, her voice controlled but urgent. "The docks are a mess. Something's going on, Moretti. My father doesn't know, but this doesn't look good."

Moretti frowned, his fat fingers tapping on the table. "Who could've done it?" he muttered. "That fool Ethan? Did he take out Carver?"

Elena shrugged, the motion casual but deliberate. "Maybe. Maybe someone else. I don't know, but you should check it out. They found a body at the docks, but the identity's unknown."

Moretti's face tightened, his eyes flashing with suspicion. "Go check it out," he ordered his men, his voice cold and commanding. Two men immediately stood up, adjusting their jackets as they left the room. Ethan saw his opening—Moretti's security had been reduced. Elena glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, giving him a subtle nod.

Ethan slid the curtain fully aside and moved quietly toward the VIP section. His footsteps vanished on the thick carpet, his heart pounding in his chest.

But just then, Moretti's eyes locked onto him. The heavyset man toppled his chair, leaping to his feet, the cigar falling to the ground. "You!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the casino. "You were supposed to be dead!"

Ethan drew his gun, but it was too late. Moretti's shout had turned the casino into chaos.