Chapter 6 - Betrayal in the Ranks
The high of the gala did not last.
Two mornings later, the estate was plunged into chaos.
Sadi woke up to heavy knocking on her bedroom door. When she opened it, Frankie stood there, his face ashen, accompanied by two guards she had never seen before.
“Sadi,” Frankie said, his voice strained. “The boss wants to see you in the holding room.”
“The holding room? What are you talking about?”
“Just come with us. Please. Don’t make a scene.”
Dread pooled in Sadi’s gut. She pulled on a robe and followed them down into the sub-level of the estate—the fortified bunker where Desmond conducted his darkest business.
The room was cold, lit by harsh fluorescent bulbs.
Desmond sat in his chair at the center of the concrete room. His face was entirely devoid of warmth. It was the face of the butcher, the Don, the man she had met on her very first day.
On the metal table in front of him lay a plastic evidence bag. Inside was an encrypted burner phone, along with a bank statement showing a wire transfer of five hundred thousand dollars from an offshore account tied to the Moretti family.
The account was registered under Sadi’s name and social security number.
Sadi froze in the doorway. “Desmond? What is this?”
Desmond did not look at her eyes. He kept his gaze locked on the table, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles jumped beneath the skin.
“The explosives used in my car six months ago,” Desmond said, his voice hollow, like stones clattering down a well. “They required a remote detonator synced to my personal schedule. Only someone with full medical and domestic access could have planted the tracker that guided Lorenzo's hit squad last week.”
“Are you insane?” Sadi gasped, stepping forward, only for a guard to raise an arm to block her. “You think *I* did this? Desmond, look at me!”
Desmond finally raised his eyes. They were completely bloodshot, filled with an agony so profound it looked like his soul was being torn in half.
“The wire transfer hit your account yesterday afternoon,” Desmond whispered. “The burner phone was found in the pocket of your winter coat in the hall closet. Lorenzo’s safe house was raided this morning. His encrypted ledger lists your full name as an asset.”
“It’s a frame!” Sadi screamed, tears of sheer outrage burning her eyes. “Lorenzo planted it! He wants you to destroy the only people who actually care about you! Why would I save your life during the attack just to sell you out for cash?”
“Because five hundred thousand dollars pays off every debt you ever had,” Desmond said, his voice cracking slightly on the final word.
He leaned forward, his knuckles digging into his thighs. “I gave you everything. I trusted you with my body. With my life. With my dignity.”
“And I gave you mine!” Sadi yelled, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “I touched you when you hated yourself! I stood between you and a hitman’s gun! If you believe a piece of paper over me, then you really are as broken as you think you are!”
The words struck Desmond like a physical blow. He flinched, his chest heaving.
A heavy silence descended upon the concrete chamber.
Frankie looked at Desmond, waiting for the order. In the mafia, treason was met with a single bullet behind the ear. There were no trials. There were no exceptions.
Desmond’s hands shook—not from nerve damage, but from the violent war raging inside his mind.
He looked at Sadi: weeping, furious, standing tall without an ounce of guilt, looking at him not with fear of death, but with heartbreak.
“Lock her in the east guest suite,” Desmond whispered hoarsely.
Frankie blinked. “Boss? Standard protocol for treason—”
“I said lock her in the suite!” Desmond roared, slamming his fist onto the metal table with a force that dented the steel. “Post four guards at the door! If she leaves that room, you answer to me! Now get her out of my sight!”
Frankie grabbed Sadi’s arm gently. “Come on, Sadi.”
Sadi didn’t fight. She looked down at Desmond, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
“You can hide behind your guns and your paranoia all you want, Gallagher,” she said, her voice shaking with quiet devastation. “But you’re the one putting yourself in a cage.”
May you like
She turned and walked out, leaving Desmond alone in the cold fluorescent light, his head sinking into his hands as a ragged, soundless sob tore through his broad shoulders.
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