Chapter 3 - Gathering the Wolves
Downstairs in the mahogany-paneled library, Enzo’s inner circle was waiting. Leo, his underboss, and Mateo, his head of security, stood by the fireplace.
"Boss," Leo greeted, stepping forward. "The Whitcomb accounts are bleeding out. We can bankrupt Preston by Friday. Word on the street is he's booking a private flight to the Caymans."
Enzo poured himself two fingers of scotch, gripping the crystal glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Ground the plane. Freeze the offshore accounts. But keep him in Chicago."
Mateo frowned. "Keep him here? I thought the plan was to ruin him and let him run so we could pick him off quietly."
"The plan changed," Enzo snarled, downing the amber liquid. He slammed the glass onto the desk. "I want every piece of dirt on Preston Whitcomb’s personal life. I want medical records. I want security footage from his estate. I want the names of the staff who worked in his house for the last fifteen years."
Leo exchanged a confused look with Mateo. "Enzo, this guy ordered the hit on Nathan. We have him cornered. Why are we playing private investigator?"
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"Because," Enzo’s voice dropped to a lethal octave, "a quick bullet is too good for him now. He hurt what belongs to me."
Mateo’s eyebrows shot up. The men understood the unspoken rule. Enzo had claimed the Whitcomb girl not just as a pawn, but as his own. And in the DeLuca family, you protect what is yours with scorched earth.
