Chapter 10 - The Return of the Wolf
The sunset over the Brooklyn Navy Yard was an explosion of amber, violet, and deep crimson.
On the rooftop terrace of the newly renovated Moretti Global headquarters, overlooking the illuminated expanse of the Manhattan skyline and the East River bridges, the five brothers stood waiting.
A long mahogany table was set for six beneath an arbor of wisteria and white lights. Platters of roasted sea bass, homemade pappardelle with wild boar ragù, fresh focaccia, and bottles of vintage Barolo covered the linen cloth.
The heavy steel elevator doors chimed open.
I stepped out onto the roof.
The evening wind caught my dark hair, blowing it back from my face. I wore a simple emerald-green silk dress, bare-shouldered, the thin silver scars on my wrists catching the golden light of the setting sun like delicate bracelets.
Leo was the first to see me. He dropped the bread basket he was carrying onto the table, a wide, boyish grin spreading across his scarred face.
"She’s here!" he shouted.
Matteo walked over and lifted me off the deck in an enormous, bone-crushing bear hug that made me gasp and laugh at the same time.
"Put her down, you ape," Dante muttered, walking up with a glass of red wine in each hand, handing one to me with a rare, genuine smile. "She just finished physical therapy on those ribs."
"I’m completely healed, Dante," I smiled, taking the glass and breathing in the rich, earthy bouquet of the wine.
Marco walked up, immaculate as always in his suit, raising his glass toward mine with a soft clink. "The transfer of the Greenwich estate closed at 3:00 p.m. today, Anna. The construction permits have been issued. The demolition crews begin tearing down the ballroom on Monday."
"Good," I said. "Let something new grow there."
Luca walked over from the edge of the terrace, holding a freshly poured glass of Barolo.
He didn't say anything for a long moment. He simply stood before me, his gray eyes sweeping over my face, noting the color in my cheeks, the light in my eyes, and the quiet, immovable strength that had returned to my posture.
He raised his glass into the evening air, looking at his four brothers gathered around the table.
"To the Moretti family," Luca said, his voice echoing across the rooftop into the vast, glittering expanse of the city below us. "We do not break. We do not bend. And we never, ever forget our blood."
"To the family," Matteo, Dante, Marco, and Leo chorused together, raising their glasses high beneath the Brooklyn sky.
I lifted my glass, looking out over the city that had once made me feel so small, so lonely, so powerless.
The city was vast, indifferent, and cold. But as I looked at the five men standing beside me—the wolves who had answered my call without a second thought—I knew that I would never walk through the shadows alone again.
May you like
"To the family," I whispered.
We drank together as the city lights flickered to life below, the night air warm and full of promise, and the past finally buried beneath the quiet strength of the wolves.
