Chapter 143: "We Have None"

The air beyond the exit door at the end of the passage leading up from the underground maze was thick with anticipation.

Ordinarily, only a modest gathering of Marchetti capos, soldiers, technicians, and staff waited there each year.

This year, however, the crowd had nearly tripled.

Inside the warehouse built above the subterranean maze, rows of Sartori and Lombardi soldiers flanked both sides of the waiting area, hemming in the Marchetti soldiers and the handful of Porto men until they were all gathered together before the exit.

Not far away, seated in the front row of the elevated gallery, were the four most powerful men on the compound, accompanied by their highest-ranking subordinates.

Ever since the second round had begun, an awkward silence had lingered among the four Dons after their initial exchange of formal courtesies.

As always, Giovanni Porto proved more than happy to fill the void. Turning toward Eduardo Marchetti beside him, the jovial Don smiled.

"Don Eduardo, for three years now we’ve watched Jordan emerge first from the Dark Room. But this year..." He chuckled lightly. "With Nazario in there as well, who do you reckon will come out first?"

Eduardo answered in his usual measured tone.

"Nazario is exceptionally skilled at fighting in the dark. That’s one area where Jordan is merely competent. Although Jordan finished first in the obstacle round, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nazario emerged ahead of him this time."

Giovanni smiled, clearly entertained.

"Now that’s refreshing to hear. I must admit, I’m rather intrigued to see a different outcome for once."

He then turned toward Gian, seated on Eduardo’s opposite side.

"And what about you, Don Gian? It’s your daughter’s first time competing. I’ve attended these Trials for years, and never once imagined I’d one day be sitting beside you watching them together."

Gian barely seemed to register the conversation.

Partly because House Porto had never been important enough to House Lombardi to require much diplomacy from him.

Partly because his eyes had never once left the exit door, waiting for his daughter to appear.

"I wouldn’t say I’m a fan of competitions like this," he replied flatly. "But my daughter is here. As her father, it’s only natural that I come to support her."

Giovanni didn’t seem bothered by the curt response. Playing the genial conversationalist was second nature to him.

"Fair enough." He laughed. "We fathers do just about anything for our daughters, don’t we?"

His attention shifted to the youngest man among the four, seated beside Gian at the far end of the row.

"What about you, Don Caio?" His grin turned teasing. "Also here for your lady?"

Caio barely spared Giovanni a glance, offering no smile.

Sartori narcotics still had to pass through Porto-controlled shipping routes. Maintaining cordial relations with House Porto was simply another part of his many responsibilities.

Even so, he had no desire whatsoever to discuss his private affairs with the men seated around him.

"What can I say?" he answered casually. "You know Ariana and I have had something going on for a while now, Don Giovanni. She invited me." One shoulder lifted in a faint shrug. "So here I am."

At those words, Eduardo’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly.

He had never been ignorant of the relationship between the Sartori Don and the Lombardi heiress. Nor had he failed to notice how deeply infatuated his own son had become with her.

Hearing Caio say it so openly only strengthened the resolve already forming in his mind.

’After the Trials are over... if Jordan loses to Nazario this year, I’ll have a serious conversation with him about the engagement with House Porto.’

With that thought settled, his attention returned to the exit door while Giovanni continued chatting away in his usual merry fashion.

Waiting was, by nature, a tedious affair.

There was little for the spectators to do beyond exchanging quiet predictions about who would emerge victorious and who would fail.

Even so, after what felt like an eternity, as low conversations drifted through the warehouse...

One tiny sound abruptly silenced everything.

Creak.

The door handle turned.

Far earlier than anyone had expected.

A heartbeat later, the heavy door swung wide open.

Rosalia Marchetti stepped through first, drenched from head to toe.

She wasn’t alone.

Slung across her shoulders was none other than her sister, Sofia Marchetti, who was not only soaked to the bone but completely unconscious.

For a long moment, the entire warehouse froze.

Silence swallowed the room as hundreds of eyes struggled to comprehend what they were seeing.

Only when Rosalia turned toward the medical team stationed beside the makeshift infirmary did everyone finally snap out of their stunned silence.

"Medic," she called, somehow remaining perfectly composed despite the situation. "Sofia struck the back of her head in a trench inside the flooded chamber. She needs a full neurological examination. Take her to the medical wing immediately."

At once, the medical team sprang into action.

They grabbed their stretchers and equipment before rushing toward the sisters, while several nearby Marchetti soldiers hurried forward to help support Sofia’s limp body.

"Lady Rosalia."

"Lady Sofia."

"Here, let us help."

"My God... you’re both freezing."

As they carefully transferred Sofia onto the stretcher, the Head Coordinator approached, bewilderment written plainly across his face.

"Lady Rosalia..." he began cautiously, keeping the microphone lowered behind his back. "I understand Lady Sofia is unconscious and you’ve escorted her out, but..." His eyes searched her empty hands. "Where are your coins?"

Rosalia turned toward him without the slightest hesitation.

"We have none."

Her voice remained calm.

"My sister lost consciousness. I assessed her condition to be critical. Waiting for the round to end wasn’t an option, so I brought her out myself."

Understanding finally dawned across the Head Coordinator’s face.

Regret quickly followed.

"So..." he said quietly, "you’re voluntarily disqualifying both yourself and Lady Sofia. Is that correct?"

Rosalia didn’t hesitate.

"Yes."

She gave a calm nod.

"I voluntarily withdraw both of us from the competition."

The Head Coordinator returned the nod solemnly.

"Very well."

Raising the microphone, he turned toward the packed warehouse and the spectators filling the elevated galleries above. His amplified voice echoed throughout the building.

"Rosalia Marchetti and Sofia Marchetti have emerged from the Dark Room exit without submitting any coins."

"I hereby announce that both contestants have been disqualified from the second round of this year’s Marchetti Trials."

At those words, a wave of gasps rippled through the warehouse.

Nothing like this had ever happened in the competition for as long as anyone could remember, let alone both Marchetti daughters being disqualified in the same round.

The most troubled person in the warehouse, however, was Eduardo, seated in the prestigious gallery above.

His brows had drawn tightly together the instant he saw his two daughters emerge. A cold premonition had settled over him, and the official announcement only confirmed it.

Rising abruptly to his feet, he looked more displeased than anyone there had ever seen him.

"Excuse me," he said curtly, his gaze never leaving Rosalia below. "I need to have a word with my daughter."

Naturally, none of the other Dons had any reason to stop him.

While Gian and Caio merely acknowledged him with silent nods, Giovanni called after him, concern coloring his voice.

"Of course. Take your time."

Eduardo was already halfway down the stairs before Giovanni finished speaking.

He moved so quickly that he failed to notice Natalia quietly excusing herself from the gallery and following him toward the warehouse floor.

It didn’t take long for Eduardo to reach Rosalia, who remained standing beside the stretcher, her attention fixed on the medics’ every movement.

"Rosalia," he called sharply. "What exactly is going on here? I demand a proper explanation."