Chapter 10 - The Sovereign Wolf
One year later.
Autumn had arrived in Sicily, painting the hillsides in rich shades of orange, gold, and deep burgundy.
At the Moretti estate, a quiet evening dinner was taking place in the private dining room.
The heavy mahogany table—once reserved only for grim mafia meetings and cold business negotiations—was now filled with warmth, laughter, and light.
Clara sat near the center of the table, sharing stories with my younger sister, who had flown in from New York for the weekend. Matteo and my senior capos sat nearby, enjoying rich pasta and fine Sicilian wine, their hardened faces relaxed and happy.
At the head of the table sat Emma, occupying a raised chair beside mine.
She was five years old now, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, wearing a small silver necklace shaped like a tiny wolf paw—a gift I had given her for her birthday.
I leaned back in my leather chair, taking a sip of red wine, looking around the room at the people who made up my world.
There was no tension in the air. No fear. No hidden traitors lurking in the dark wings of my home.
Emma leaned over, nudging my elbow with her tiny arm.
"Uncle Alessandro?" she whispered softly.
"Yes, little one?" I replied, setting my glass down and leaning in close to listen.
"Is the wolf ever going to leave?" she asked, her big brown eyes looking into mine with absolute trust.
I reached out, taking her tiny hand in mine, feeling the silver ring resting in her palm.
"Never, Emma," I answered, my voice steady, warm, and as unyielding as the mountains surrounding our home. "The wolf stays where his family is."
May you like
She smiled, satisfied, and returned to her dinner, her innocent laughter blending with the happy voices of the room.
Outside the tall stained-glass windows, the Mediterranean sea stretched out beneath a sky full of brilliant, shining stars—calm, peaceful, and forever guarded by the sovereign wolf of Palermo.
