Smoke And ashes
564 Words
The city felt colder now.
Luca's blood still stained Dominic’s sleeves, the coppery scent following him like a ghost through the twisting streets of San Francisco. The warehouse had gone up in smoke by the time the sirens wailed. By then, Dominic was already gone—vanished into the fog like a hunted man.
He didn’t go home.
He went underground.
To the backrooms of Chinatown, where whispers moved faster than bullets. To crooked bartenders, to back-alley card games, to old men who owed favors to the Moretti name. He moved with purpose, rage coiled tight in his chest.
Someone had tipped off the Romanos. Someone had wanted Luca dead.
And Dominic was going to find out who.
---
It didn’t take long.
Two names kept coming up—Antonio Romano and a runner named Frankie Bell, a double-dealer who played both sides when it suited him.
Dominic found him in a brothel on the south end of Mission Street, drunk, loud, and trying to impress girls with stories he hadn’t earned.
Dominic grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the alley behind the building. Rain slicked the pavement. Frankie’s feet scrambled for footing as Dominic slammed him against the brick wall.
“Talk,” Dominic growled. “Who told Antonio about the drop?”
“I didn’t say nothin’—”
Dominic shoved him harder. “Luca’s dead, you rat. You’re next unless you start talking.”
Frankie’s voice broke. “It was never supposed to be a hit. Just a scare. They said the Morettis were getting greedy. Said they wanted to send a message.”
“Who gave the order?”
Frankie hesitated.
Dominic pressed his gun to Frankie’s ribs.
“Who?”
“…Salvatore. Antonio said his father approved it himself.”
Dominic let go. Frankie slumped to the ground, gasping. Dominic didn’t look back.
His mind was a warzone now—grief, fury, betrayal. Salvatore had signed his brother’s death sentence. Antonio had pulled the trigger. But what broke him most…
Was Allegra.
What did she know?
Had she been part of it? Or had she warned him too late on purpose?
---
She found him hours later, standing at the base of Coit Tower, soaked in rain, staring at the skyline like it might give him answers.
“Dominic,” she said softly.
He turned.
Her eyes widened when she saw him—bloodstained, wild, broken.
“What happened?” she whispered.
“Luca’s dead.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “No…”
“You told me it was a setup. You were right.” His voice was flat. Empty. “But you didn’t tell me your father ordered the hit.”
“I didn’t know,” she said, stepping closer. “I swear—”
“Then why didn’t you warn me sooner?”
She stopped, stunned.
“Dominic, I… I was scared.”
He looked away. “So was Luca.”
Silence stretched between them, thick as the fog.
“I didn’t want to lose you,” she whispered.
“You already did.”
He walked past her, into the mist, into the night. She reached for him—but he didn’t turn back.
And as Allegra stood alone in the rain, she realized the truth: the war between their families had finally found them. And no one was walking away clean.
- Writer
