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🔥 BREAKING: MAFIA BOSS RUNS INTO EXPLOSIVE BALCONY TRAP TO SAVE HIS DAUGHTER AFTER 14-YEAR BETRAYAL EXPOSED! 😱 / Chapter 25 / 30

Chapter 25 - BATTLE OF MONT BLANC💥 BLOOD ON THE WHITE SNOW! NIGHT RAID IN TRUE MAFIA STYLE! 😱

FLARE INCOMING!

A blinding white flare ignited the pitch-black alpine sky.

Over fifty heavily armed mercenaries in white snow-gear dropped from six tactical helicopters, surrounding Gabriel’s chalet. Leading the assault was a notorious hitman known as "The Scorpion"—the ruthless enforcer of the Shadow Council.

"Gabriel Rowan! Hand over the locket chip or watch your family freeze in their own blood!" Scorpion bellowed through a megaphone.

Only silence answered him.

Suddenly, from beneath the deep snowdrifts surrounding the chalet, dozens of Vito Moretti’s veteran enforcers burst out like winter phantoms!

FIRE IN THE HOLE!

A brutal firefight erupted across the snowfields. Muzzle flashes illuminated the blizzard as crimson blood sprayed across the pristine white snow. Gabriel moved through the chaotic crossfire with terrifying precision, dropping mercenary after mercenary.

Panicked, Scorpion sprinted toward his command chopper, but a single 50-caliber sniper round from Bennett’s rifle blew through his knee! He slammed face-first into the freezing snow.

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The digital glow of Mason’s tablet illuminated the dark living room, casting cold blue shadows across his determined face. On the screen, Vanessa’s voice echoed—slick, calculated, and entirely devoid of the warmth she reserves for public displays. She wasn't just hoarding groceries; she was laying the architectural groundwork for a legal trap.

The digital glow of Mason’s tablet illuminated the dark living room, cas...

The heavy oak doors of the Rinaldi dining hall groaned as they swung inward, parting to reveal an empire built on blood, now tearing itself apart over the carcass.

The heavy oak doors of the Rinaldi dining hall groaned as they swung inw...

The amber liquid pooled in the thick-cut crystal shards like a pool of fresh arterial blood. Adrian Moretti, a man whose word could bankrupt nations or alter coastlines, lay gasping against the imported Persian rug of his Sands Point study. His lungs felt like shriveled parchment, desiccated and screaming for oxygen. The poison—slipped smoothly into his late-afternoon vintage by someone who knew the exact calibration of his rare nightshade allergy—had done its work with terrifying speed.

The amber liquid pooled in the thick-cut crystal shards like a pool of f...

Gabriel walked up, pressing his tactical boot onto Scorpion’s chest: "SPEAK! Who is the Shadow Architect?!"

Scorpion spat blood, laughing maniacally: "You... you really think he died at the bottom of Lake Michigan... Gabriel?"

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