Chapter 13 - The Poisoned Quill
The basement corridors beneath the Drake Hotel were a stark contrast to the opulence above. Cold white fluorescent lights flickered over exposed pipes, grease traps, and concrete floors slick with condensation.
Luca, Lily, and three armed guards moved in absolute, lethal silence toward the private kitchen annex. Luca had insisted Lily remain in the ballroom under heavy guard, but she had refused flatly. *“If it involves the kitchens,”* she had told him, *“you are blind without me.”*
He hadn't argued further. Instead, he had handed her a compact, sleek automatic pistol—small enough to conceal in her clutch—and shown her the safety mechanism with steady hands.
Marco kicked open the door of the pastry preparation room.
Inside, a middle-aged man in a stained white chef's uniform dropped a stainless-steel syringe onto the stainless prep table. The glass shattered, spilling a thick, colorless liquid onto a tray of chocolate truffles destined for the head table.
"Hands on your head! Face down on the floor!" Marco barked, raising his weapon.
The chef dropped to his knees, shaking violently. "Don't shoot! Please, sweet Jesus, don't shoot! She said she’d kill my daughter! She said her men were outside my girl's dorm in Evanston!"
Luca stepped into the room, his eyes dead, calculating, and chillingly quiet. He picked up the broken barrel of the syringe with a gloved hand and sniffed it cautiously before tossing it into the sink. "Aconite. Wolfsbane. Clean, quick, paralyzes the respiratory system within four minutes."
Lily walked over to the prep table. She picked up the order sheet pinned to the magnetic board. Her eyes scanned the handwriting. "This isn't Aurelia's writing. Aurelia writes with heavy loops and slanted serifs. This is angular, disciplined, like a military ledger."
The trembling chef looked up through tears. "It wasn't Miss Aurelia who gave me the vial. It was a man. He said he worked for the Russian syndicate out of North Shore. He said... he said the engagement was supposed to fall apart, but Luca Moretti wasn't supposed to survive the week regardless!"
Luca’s jaw set into granite. "Viktor Kozlov."
"Who is Viktor Kozlov?" Lily asked, turning to Luca.
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"Aurelia wasn't acting alone when she tried to frame you and poison me," Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying register. "She wasn't just a greedy fiancée looking for an inheritance. She was a pawn for the Bratva. They’ve been trying to force a war between the Italian families and the North Shore syndicate for three years. And tonight, they realized their inside agent failed."
***
