Chapter 6 - BLOOD OF THE VANGUARDThe sky over the Sicilian estate turned an ominous shade of bruised purple as heavy storm clouds rolled in from the Ionian Sea, blotting out the warm afternoon sun.
Inside the grand study of the Moretti villa, Luca stood before a massive tactical wall map of Europe, his fingers tracing the flight trajectory of the incoming strike team. His muscles, fully recovered through Dr. Vance’s rigorous physical therapy and advanced cellular regeneration serums, pulsed with raw, unchecked power.
The heavy oak doors burst open without warning.
Marco, his head of security, rushed in, his tactical vest buckled tightly across his chest and an assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Boss! Satellite feeds confirm three stealth helicopters are clearing the coastal ridge," Marco reported rapidly, his voice urgent. "They aren't local enforcers or rival street gangs. They’re professional black-ops mercenaries equipped with thermal optics, night-vision gear, and chemical breaching charges."
Luca didn't panic. He calmly picked up a heavy, matte-black Beretta handgun from his mahogany desk, checking the loaded magazine with a sharp clack before sliding it into his shoulder holster.
"Where are Elena and Maya?" Luca asked, his voice dead calm.
"Safely secured in the reinforced underground panic shelter beneath the wine cellar," Marco answered. "Dr. Vance is with them, monitoring the automated defense grid."
"Good," Luca said, walking toward the French doors that led out onto the stone terrace. "Vincenzo wants my empire back? He wants my bloodline erased? Then let's welcome my dear uncle home properly."
Suddenly, the glass windows of the study shattered inward in a shower of brilliant diamonds.
Flashbang grenades rolled across the marble floor, detonating with deafening concussive blasts and blinding white light. Simultaneously, black-clad mercenaries dropped down from ropes attached to the hovering helicopters outside, their weapons raised.
Before the first mercenary could even acquire a target, Luca moved with terrifying, blinding speed.
He vaulted over the mahogany desk, drawing his Beretta, and fired twice through the blinding smoke. Two operatives dropped instantly, their bodies hitting the floor with heavy thuds.
A third mercenary lunged from behind a marble pillar, swinging the butt of an assault rifle toward Luca’s head. Luca ducked effortlessly under the swing, pivoted on his heel, delivered a devastating roundhouse kick straight into the mercenary's chest, sending the man crashing backward through the antique stained-glass window.
Within ninety seconds, the study was clear. Silence fell once more, broken only by the crackle of distant thunder outside.
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Marco stepped over a fallen operative, kicking an encrypted tactical radio away from his hand. "That was just the advance wave, boss. The main assault team is landing on the lower courtyard."
Luca wiped a speck of dust from his tailored suit jacket, his eyes burning with an icy, lethal fire. "Then we don't wait for them to knock."
