Blood On The Ledger

Chapter 10: The First Body

The gunshots had stopped.

That was the first thing Dante noticed when he stepped out of the vehicle.

The second was the silence.

Not the ordinary silence of late night.

This was different.

It was the kind of silence that came after something terrible had already happened.

Dante stood near the boundary, his eyes moving over the darkness.

Victor came up beside him.

“Everyone is holding position.”

Dante nodded.

“Where’s the body?”

“Ten feet from the fence.”

Dante started walking.

“Nobody touches it.”

Victor followed.

Their men stood scattered along the road, weapons lowered but ready. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared.

The boundary looked different under the weak light from the vehicles.

During the day, it was just an old fence.

Tonight, it looked like a grave waiting to be dug.

Dante stopped.

The body lay face down on the dirt.

A man.

Young.

Maybe thirty.

Blood had soaked through the back of his shirt.

Victor crouched several feet away.

“He’s dead.”

Dante didn’t answer.

He was looking at the man’s hands.

One hand was stretched toward the fence.

The other was curled beneath his body.

Dante’s eyes narrowed.

“Turn him over.”

Victor hesitated.

“Dante—”

“Turn him over.”

Two men carefully rolled the body onto its back.

The man’s eyes were open.

His face was unfamiliar.

Dante had never seen him before.

Victor searched the man’s pockets.

Nothing.

No identification.

No phone.

No wallet.

No weapon.

Just a small metal key.

Victor held it up.

“That’s all.”

Dante looked at it.

“A key to what?”

“We don’t know.”

Dante stared at the dead man’s face.

“Find out.”

One of the men suddenly spoke.

“Boss.”

Dante turned.

The man pointed toward the other side of the fence.

“There.”

A second pool of blood was visible on the Marinos side.

Not much.

But enough.

Dante’s face hardened.

“Someone else was here.”

Victor looked across the fence.

“Looks like it.”

Dante walked closer.

He didn’t cross.

He crouched near the boundary and examined the blood from his side.

Fresh.

Then he looked at the blood on the other side.

Fresh too.

Two pools.

One body.

Someone had been injured and escaped.

Or someone had staged the scene carefully enough to make them believe two men had fought.

Victor stood behind him.

“What do you think?”

Dante’s answer came quietly.

“I think we’re being watched.”

Three minutes later, headlights appeared in the distance.

Every weapon lifted.

Dante raised his hand.

“Wait.”

The vehicle slowed as it approached.

A black SUV.

Marinos.

It stopped on the opposite side of the road.

The passenger door opened.

Luca stepped out.

Nico followed.

Enzo remained inside.

Dante watched them approach the boundary.

Luca stopped several feet away.

His eyes went to the body.

“What happened?”

Dante didn’t answer.

Luca looked at the dead man again.

“Who is he?”

“We don’t know.”

Luca’s jaw tightened.

“You called us here?”

“I didn’t.”

Luca looked confused.

“Then who did?”

Dante stared at him.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

Nico stepped forward.

“Was he one of yours?”

“No.”

“Then why is he on your side?”

Dante looked at him coldly.

“He’s on the ground.”

Nico’s expression hardened.

“You know what I mean.”

Victor stepped between them.

“Careful.”

Luca immediately raised a hand.

“Enough.”

His attention returned to the body.

“He’s not ours either.”

Dante looked at him.

“You sure?”

Luca nodded.

“I’ve never seen him.”

A car door closed behind them.

Everyone turned.

Enzo stepped out.

For the first time, Dante saw him properly.

Not a photograph.

Not a name in a report.

Not a rumor.

The man himself.

Enzo walked toward the boundary.

He was younger than Dante had expected.

Confident.

Calm.

His expression carried none of the fear that most men showed when standing this close to Dante Morrow.

Dante studied him.

Something about the man’s face felt strangely familiar.

The thought came and disappeared so quickly he barely noticed it.

Impossible.

His son had died twenty-eight years ago.

This was simply another young man.

Another kingpin.

Another enemy.

Enzo stopped on the other side of the fence.

Their eyes met.

Neither man spoke.

The men behind them became very still.

Two rulers.

One boundary.

One dead body between them.

Enzo finally broke the silence.

“So.”

His gaze dropped to the corpse.

“This is what they wanted.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed.

“You know something?”

“No.”

Enzo looked at the body again.

“But I know a trap when I see one.”

Dante watched him carefully.

“You think someone wants us to blame each other.”

“I know they do.”

“Then why are you here?”

Enzo looked directly at him.

“Because that’s my town.”

Dante’s expression didn’t change.

“And this is mine.”

“I know.”

Neither moved.

Enzo glanced down at the body.

“Whoever killed him wanted us to find him here.”

Dante nodded slightly.

“And whoever did it knew our rules.”

Enzo looked at the fence.

“Which means they know us.”

“Or they’ve been studying us.”

The words hung in the air.

Victor’s eyes shifted toward the darkness.

For the first time, the possibility became real.

Someone knew where their men moved.

Someone knew their routines.

Someone knew the rules.

Someone knew exactly how much blood would be needed to make two powerful men reach for their guns.

Enzo looked at Dante.

“Did your men fire tonight?”

“No.”

“Mine didn’t either.”

“Then who did?”

Enzo’s eyes returned to the body.

“I don’t know.”

Dante looked at him for a long moment.

Then he said something that surprised everyone.

“Neither side touches the body.”

Luca frowned.

“What?”

“We investigate together.”

Nico immediately objected.

“With them?”

Dante didn’t look at him.

“Yes.”

Enzo’s expression was unreadable.

“You trust us?”

“No.”

A faint smile touched Enzo’s mouth.

“Good.”

Dante’s eyes remained cold.

“I don’t trust anyone.”

They moved the body away from the road only after both sides agreed.

Not across the fence.

Not into either town.

They placed it beneath a streetlight near the boundary, where both sides could see it.

Nobody claimed the dead man.

Nobody knew his name.

That bothered Dante more than the murder itself.

A man could disappear in their world.

But a man with no name was different.

It meant someone had worked hard to erase him.

Victor returned from searching the surrounding area.

“Nothing.”

Dante looked at him.

“Nothing?”

“No footprints we can use. Whoever came through knew what they were doing.”

Enzo heard him.

He turned toward Luca.

“Check the cameras.”

“Already doing it.”

“And the roads?”

“Blocked.”

Enzo nodded.

Dante watched him.

The young man gave orders like someone who had been doing it for years.

No hesitation.

No panic.

Dante hated that he respected it.

Then he noticed something.

Enzo had moved closer to the body.

He wasn’t looking at the wound.

He was looking at the man’s hand.

Dante followed his gaze.

The dead man’s fingers were curled around something.

Enzo crouched.

“Don’t touch him.”

Dante’s voice stopped him.

Enzo looked up.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

Dante crouched beside the body.

He carefully examined the fingers.

A small piece of paper was trapped between them.

Victor leaned closer.

“There’s something written on it.”

Dante removed it.

Three words.

THE FIRST IS MINE.

Nobody spoke.

Enzo’s expression changed.

Luca looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

Enzo shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Dante folded the paper.

“Neither do I.”

Nico looked toward the opposite town.

“Maybe it’s a message from your side.”

Victor immediately stepped forward.

“Watch your mouth.”

Nico didn’t back down.

“You heard him. The first is mine. Maybe they’re claiming the body.”

Enzo looked at Nico.

“Enough.”

“But—”

“I said enough.”

Nico stepped back.

Enzo looked at Dante.

“That’s not ours.”

Dante held his gaze.

“I believe you.”

Victor turned toward him.

“Dante?”

Dante stood.

“I said I believe him.”

It was a strange thing to hear from a man like Dante Morrow.

But he wasn’t trusting Enzo.

He was trusting logic.

If Enzo wanted war, he wouldn’t need riddles.

He would send soldiers.

He would send bullets.

He wouldn’t leave three words beside a body neither side recognized.

Someone wanted them angry.

Someone wanted them suspicious.

Someone wanted them to forget the rules.

Dante looked at the fence.

Then at the blood.

Then at Enzo.

“Take your men home.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow.

“You’re dismissing me?”

“I’m preventing a war.”

For a second, something almost like amusement appeared in Enzo’s eyes.

“Maybe we agree on something.”

“Don’t get comfortable.”

Enzo smiled faintly.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

He turned away.

Then stopped.

“Dante.”

Dante looked at him.

“If another one of my men dies on this side of the fence, I won’t assume you’re innocent.”

Dante’s face remained emotionless.

“If another one of mine dies on yours, I won’t assume you are either.”

Enzo nodded.

“Fair enough.”

He walked away.

Dante watched him disappear into the darkness.

Victor came beside him.

“You really trust him?”

Dante looked at the road.

“No.”

“Then why let him leave?”

“Because he didn’t kill this man.”

Victor was silent.

Dante looked down at the body.

“Not this time.”

Before dawn, the two towns had already begun whispering.

A body had been found at the boundary.

Nobody knew who he was.

Nobody knew who killed him.

But people had already chosen sides.

In Morrows Estate, whispers said Marinos had finally crossed the line.

In Marinos Villa, people said Dante was testing them.

Fear spread faster than facts.

At the market, women spoke in low voices.

At the mechanic’s shop, men argued about who had fired first.

Parents called their children indoors.

Shop owners closed earlier than usual.

The ordinary people who had nothing to do with the war were already paying for it.

And the men responsible for keeping them safe were standing on opposite sides of a fence, trying to understand who had placed the body there.

Dante returned to his study just before sunrise.

The small metal key sat on his desk.

He picked it up.

Turned it over.

Nothing.

He opened a drawer and placed it beside the photograph of his wife and son.

For a moment, his eyes rested on the picture.

Then his phone rang.

Victor.

“Dante.”

“What?”

“We found something.”

Dante straightened.

“Where?”

“Near the boundary.”

“What?”

A pause.

“The man wasn’t killed there.”

Dante’s expression hardened.

“How do you know?”

“Because there’s no blood trail leading to the body.”

Dante looked toward the window.

“So?”

“The blood was brought there.”

Silence.

Victor continued.

“Someone killed him somewhere else.”

Dante’s fingers tightened around the phone.

“Then moved the body.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Victor’s voice dropped.

“To make sure we found him.”

Dante stared at the photograph on his desk.

The little boy smiled back at him.

Then Dante looked at the key.

Something cold settled in his chest.

This wasn’t random.

The bodies.

The photographs.

The blood.

The messages.

Someone wasn’t trying to start a war anymore.

They were building one.

Piece by piece.

Body by body.

And the first body had only been the beginning.